Disowned By Time
by GrieverJ
Summary: An altered novelization of the events of Fire Emblem: Awakening told first person from Lucina's perspective. Focuses on her actions both inside and outside the game's storyline, as well as the relationship between Lucina and Avatar/Destin.
1. Prologue: To Change the Future

**Foreword**

Just a few things I'd like to get out of the way.

I'm not usually big on fan fiction. I've always preferred to write my own material. However, having recently finished Fire Emblem: Awakening, I was inspired to write this fic.

This is an altered novelization of the events of the game. Pairings, children, etc. are all assumed. Because the perspective character is Lucina, some events will be mentioned only second hand and some will not be mentioned at all. This fic is focused on Lucina, Avatar/Destin, and to a lesser extent Chrom and Morgan. If other characters seem unused or underdeveloped, that's probably why. There are a lot of them, and unfortunately they can't all get the love they deserve.

There will be changes. If a section of dialogue or a scene is different, there's a good chance the change was intentional, either because I felt it aided the overall narrative or simply made things flow better. It could have been a mistake as well. There's a lot of information tucked away in Awakening, and I'm not going to trawl through every support conversation in the game to ensure I didn't miss a single fact.

I've noticed a few names for Avatar/My Unit that seem to have become standard, but didn't really care for any of them. I named him Destin for this fic, half because I liked the name and half as a reference to the Ogre Battle series (the namable player character from the first game appeared in later games with the canon name Destin).

With all that said, I hope you enjoy the fic.

**Prologue: To Change the Future**

My name is Lucina.

I was born in the eye of the storm, a scant two years of peace in between periods of war and upheaval. The latter of these would change the world forever, and not for the better.

My father was Chrom, a Prince of the Halidom of Ylisse. While his older sister, Emmeryn, guided and nurtured the nation as their Exalt, Chrom led the Shepherds, Ylisse's volunteer military. The Shepherds patrolled throughout the country, protecting the people against brigands and other threats and providing a sense of security. He died when I was still very young – betrayed by a close friend, or so I've been told. The only memories I have of him rightly belong to others. They say he was kind, brave, honest, and a born leader; the sort of man who could bring out the best in others with his presence alone. They also say he was stubborn and reckless, but only because he cared so much about the people around him.

My mother was Sumia, a Pegasus Knight and longstanding member of the Shepherds under Chrom. For years she admired and loved my father for his compassionate nature and heroic leadership. At the end of the war between Ylisse and Plegia she finally found the courage to confess her feelings to him. He had held feelings for her as well, and they were wed soon afterwards. She outlived Chrom by many years, and though she was never less than a gentle and caring mother I eventually realized that part of her had died with my father. Sumia was even more empathetic than Chrom, and she had a gift for dealing with animals. She was incredibly clumsy, often tripping over herself - though she did less of that as the years went by. She could be flighty and even airheaded at times, but she always came through when it mattered.

There were many others I once knew that I now have only memories of. Between the war with Plegia and the later campaign against the Valmese Empire, the Shepherds expanded greatly until they formed the core of the so-called Ylissean League. Their combined strength and determination eventually unseated Walhart the Conqueror himself. Each and every member was a trusted comrade of my parents, and I considered those that survived long enough my friends.

Survival. I've come to hate that word, as though life merely existing is a good enough reason to justify itself. Life, even the lowest of the low, should be worth more than that. But it's all we have now, and not for very long.

The end began the day my father died. Grima, the Fell Dragon whose only purpose is the extinction of all life, returned to the world on that day. The destruction of every city worthy of the name took the beast less than a year, at which point he started attacking smaller towns and moved his way down. Those settlements he didn't destroy himself were razed by hordes of Risen, his mindless undead servants.

These days Grima just maintains his position in the sky, an omnipresent reminder of the death that awaits. No man, woman, or child can look up at the clouds without seeing Grima, and knowing that their days are numbered. The Fell Dragon no longer bothers to attack us himself, as his Risen armies have grown to an unstoppable size. People dare to hope, and without the threat of Grima's direct involvement they come together to form communities. Then the Risen come, and the hopeful perish at the hands of endless undead warriors. This is what Grima wants more than anything: to destroy our hope.

I stand against him, to the best of my ability. Wielding Falchion, the sacred sword that was once my father's, I began using the name Marth after the hero king of legend. I had hoped that even a portion of the ancient warrior's valiance would enable me to stem the inexorable tide of death. I have destroyed Risen beyond counting, but I can never destroy them all.

Grima was defeated once before with the aid of Naga, the Divine Dragon and protector of humanity. Both slept for hundreds of years following that defeat, but the Awakening ritual that summoned Grima did not bring back Naga. The Fire Emblem, required to perform the Awakening ritual, was lost in the chaos following the Fell Dragon's return.

Yet Naga did awaken, in a fashion. Unable to directly influence the nightmarish world that had come to be, she came to me in my dreams, telling me of a way to alter this ruinous path. But not for ourselves. What she offered was the ability to travel into the past and prevent Grima's return. Once this journey was undertaken, none who embarked upon it would be able to return to our world.

I called together my closest comrades, the children of the men and women my father had once fought alongside, to discuss this option. In the end, we all agreed that our world was doomed. The only question was how long it would take for the Risen to hunt down the last living creature. With this terrible truth in the open, we decided to take Naga's offer. We would travel back in time in an effort to change history, so that at least one world might exist without knowing the scourge of Grima.

Even though I agreed to the plan, inside I was torn. Regardless of how hopeless the situation was or how I justified it, the fact was that I was abandoning my people. I was the oldest surviving member of Ylisse's ruling bloodline, and the Brand of the Exalt in my left eye reminded me of that each and every day. Emmeryn and others before her had died doing what they believed was best for their people, and here I was running away.

The day upon which my comrades and I had agreed to meet at Mount Prism to begin our journey through time dawned, and I still had no answer. Gazing into the pristine waters of a river that ran through the mountain, I wondered if I was making the right choice. Who would look after my people if not me?

A tiny object floating down the river caught my attention, and I fished it out. It was a mask, colored deep blue and gold with a shape and design reminiscent of a butterfly. As I stared at the mask, the realization came to me that what we were doing was more important than me or my people. This was about the fate of the world and life itself. If walking away from the responsibilities of the Exalt's bloodline was necessary to correct the path of reality, then it was the right decision.

I fastened the mask over my face. With it, the Brand of the Exalt was no longer visible, and I became one more soldier in the fight against evil. Determination filled me, and I knew that I had to be prepared to do _anything _in the name of our cause. I vowed, then and there, that I would not remove the mask until the day that Grima's return had been prevented, and the world's future was safe. Only then would I face the consequences of my actions and everything I had left behind.

We gathered before the altar of Naga, ready to begin. The Divine Dragon warned us that the pathways of time could be unpredictable, and that we would not all arrive in the same place or even at the same time. She opened the Rift through which we would travel…

…and then the Risen arrived. Hundreds of them, swarming over the mountain from all directions. Our only recourse was to flee through the Rift, and hope that those that followed us through could be dealt with on the other side.

I don't know what I expected travelling through time to be like, but the instant I entered the Rift I was pulled into a swirling vortex without color or form. Oddly enough, I didn't find it disorienting but rather focusing. The Rift purified me, cleansing away what I was before and reminding me of the task that awaited me.

I am on a mission to change the future. This is my story.


	2. Chapter One: The World of the Past

**Chapter One: The World of the Past**

It was deep into the night when I arrived. The Rift's opening in the past was much more dramatic than it had been at Mount Prism. The forest it opened above was burning, and the very earth itself stirred. Somehow, a number of Risen had managed to exit the Rift before I did. There were humans down there as well, who had unfortunately been caught in the undead warriors' path.

One of them, a young girl, had her back against a boulder as a Risen soldier advanced on her. I leapt from the Rift's opening, hitting the ground running. I barely made it in front of the Risen's axe blow, and the awkward angle meant that I had to catch the attack with Falchion held behind my neck. The undead had a superior position, and attempted to break through my guard with sheer force.

I turned to the girl's companion, a fighter by the looks of him, who seemed to have been surprised into inaction by my sudden appearance. "Help!" I exclaimed.

"Right," he replied before breaking into a charge. As he approached the Risen from its right side, I managed to throw off the creature's axe and twist Falchion into a swift slash. Our swords passed through the Risen's body from opposite sides, and after a moment it dissolved into the dark purple dust that always came from the bodies of defeated Risen.

I sheathed my blade, but the other man did not. He paced, staring at me suspiciously. "Quite an entrance," he said. "What's your name?"

I turned to face him, getting a good look at both of the others for the first time. I had to clamp down on my surprise; many people in my world had described to me the face of the man I couldn't remember, and this warrior in front of me matched all of their words. Any doubt as to his identity was swept away by the fact that the Brand of the Exalt was displayed proudly on his bare shoulder, and the sword he carried was the same as my own. This man was Chrom, my father.

Which made the girl Chrom's sister, my aunt Lissa. There was no mistaking that absurd hair style for any other, though she was much younger than I had ever seen her and unburdened by the tragedies of war. She seemed more frightened than anything.

I was uncertain what to say. I hadn't expected the Rift to deposit me ten feet away from the man I'd come back to save. Although it was gratifying to know that Chrom was still alive in whatever time this was, I didn't know how to proceed.

Fortunately, shouts in the distance claimed my father's attention. A heavily armored figure on horseback and one other were approaching swiftly, hailing Chrom and asking if he was alright. Trust Frederick the Wary to show up right when I needed him. I seized the opportunity to disappear into the smoke.

I considered simply leaving, getting far away from my father and his companions before they could start asking difficult questions. But there were still many Risen in the area, and I was partly responsible for bringing them here. I had to destroy as many as possible so they couldn't threaten the people. Chrom would undoubtedly engage them as well, which I would have to keep an eye on. Some savior I'd turn out to be if the Risen that followed me through the Rift killed my father before his time.

In smaller numbers than I was used to, the Risen were no match for me. I was careful to skirt around the area in which Chrom's group was fighting. I stole a minute to watch their battle from the safety of a clump of unburned trees.

That was the first time I'd ever seen him. The fourth member of their party, the other who had arrived with Frederick. I did not know this man, nor had anyone ever told me of him. His unkempt hair was black, the same color as the hooded, knee-length coat he wore open at the front. The clothes he wore beneath it were plain, simple dyed cloth. In his right hand he held a sword, and seemed to know how to use it well enough. I could not make out his face from where I was, yet all the same a sense of confidence seemed to emanate from him as he marched forward to face the Risen.

A pair of undead warriors charged him, axes at the ready. The stranger raised his left hand, and after a moment lightning lanced from his fingertips. The first of the approaching Risen took the blast full on, its charred body falling to the ground and dissolving. The second closed with the man, but its powerful overhand strike was casually evaded. A return swing severed the Risen's hand, twisting into a second slash that decapitated the undead warrior.

More Risen attacked, but Chrom and Frederick joined the stranger in facing their assault. They seemed to have things well in hand, so I returned to hunting down the remaining Risen.

Why hadn't I heard of this man before? He traveled alongside my father, and seemed an able combatant. Using both magic and the sword with skill was a rare talent. Perhaps he would die in the war against Plegia, but he did not look like a man who would die easily. I supposed it was a mystery that would have to wait for another time.

Once more I considered leaving, but I realized that the nature of my appearance and actions so far in this world had made Chrom suspicious. If he was to be at all receptive to my words later on, I needed to allay his mistrust. But how to go about it without revealing too much? To speak of events that had not happened yet was a risky business, and I needed my father to trust me, not think I was insane.

I decided that the best option was to be vague, to offer a warning of the troubles to come without detailing them. Even if they didn't necessarily believe me, it would be better than simply vanishing, and perhaps it would put Chrom on his guard. The nudge that would put the world off its path to ruination could be a result of the smallest thing.

When they finished off the last of the Risen, I was waiting. Chrom approached me cautiously, but with Falchion sheathed this time. The other three trailed behind him. Frederick, I noticed, seemed to be trying to keep a close eye both on me and on the stranger. It wasn't much, but it told me that Frederick did not trust this man.

"It seems all the creatures have been vanquished," Frederick was saying to Chrom. "This young man took care of the others."

I was a bit surprised that Frederick had noticed me during the battle. I guess I wasn't nearly as subtle as I'd thought. But even he had mistaken me for a man, so that particular deception was effective at least.

"Umm…" Lissa began hesitantly. "I didn't get to thank you for before. So thank you. You were very brave."

"You saved my sister's life," Chrom said. "My name is Chrom. Might I ask yours?"

Well, at least he was acting a bit friendlier. "You may call me Marth," I replied.

"After the heroic king of old?" Chrom asked. "You certainly fight like a hero. Where did you learn your sword technique?"

Too many questions, I thought irritably. "I'm not here to talk about me," I said. "This world lies on the edge of a terrible calamity. What you saw tonight was but a prelude." They all stared at me as though I'd sprouted wings. This whole cryptic prophet thing was more difficult than I'd thought. "You have been warned," I finished lamely before I turned to leave.

"We're on the edge of what now!?" Lissa exclaimed as I walked away. "Hey, wait!" I kept going, and after a few moments I could no longer make out the sounds of their continued conversation. They did not attempt to follow me.

That exchange could have gone better, I suppose, but it wasn't a total loss. I had delivered my warning, in any case.

Closer up, I'd gotten a better look at the stranger in Chrom's group. He was an enigma to me, and I have to admit that I found him interesting even then. His sleep had been interrupted by a burning forest and an attack by fearsome undead, and yet he wore this amused smile on his face like it was all quite entertaining.

He'd seemed sure of himself while fighting the Risen, but a quick glance into his blue eyes had told me otherwise. He was like a man riding a makeshift raft down a swift river; he didn't know where he was or where the river would take him, but he had no choice but to hold on and hope that everything worked out. Yet I was all but certain that it would not end well for him, because if he was my father's companion and had survived long enough I would know of him.

Perhaps, I mused, I could save this intriguing stranger as well as Emmeryn and Chrom. His support could provide a crucial difference in the days to come. But not knowing the time or place of his death made it a challenging prospect. I would have to consider the matter carefully before taking any action.

At that moment, however, all I wanted to consider was where to sleep. If nothing else, my first night in the past had been an interesting one.


	3. Chapter Two: Trial by Steel

**Chapter Two: Trial by Steel**

I travelled northeast in the morning, careful to choose an alternate route to the one that Chrom and his companions would be using. I was fairly certain that Lissa would slow them down enough that we wouldn't meet again on the road, but there was no sense in being incautious.

Though I never stopped for long, I did pause to listen to the rumors circling about in the towns I passed through. It was important that I find out exactly when the Rift had spat me out, so that I could plan my actions accordingly. Most of the talk concerned either the coming harvest or the bands of brigands that had been pouring out of neighboring Plegia and pillaging anything in their path.

I concluded that I had arrived shortly before the war with Plegia would begin. It wouldn't be long before Mad King Gangrel of Plegia trumped up a minor border incident that he himself had arranged and used it as an excuse to declare war against Ylisse. Immediately after the hostilities began, Exalt Emmeryn would be murdered and my father gravely injured by assassins belonging to the Grimleal, a cult that worshipped Grima himself.

This would be a key event for me to intervene in. If I could save both Emmeryn and my father, it was entirely possible that my mission would already be complete. I would have to keep an eye on things even then, to ensure that time did not correct itself. This was something that Naga had warned me about; time favored its original course, and any alterations I made to it could be undone in a different way. Only constant vigilance on my part could enforce a divergence.

However, the night of the assassination was still several weeks away. Uncertain what I should do until then, I decided to head for Ylisstol, the capital of Ylisse. I wanted to see Exalt Emmeryn for myself. She had died before I was born, but I had heard many tales of her unflinching kindness and generosity. Aunt Lissa had called Emmeryn the greatest woman she had ever known, and told me that the Exalt's death had inflicted a wound upon Ylisse from which the nation would never truly recover.

I maintained a swift pace, but I still made time in the course of my journey to appreciate the world around me. I grew up knowing naught but dead fields, burnt out forests, and rivers polluted by rotting bodies. Mount Prism was the only place in my world that had remained unspoiled by Grima, due to Naga's influence there. Seeing Ylisse in its full beauty brought me great joy, and renewed my determination that this wonderful land would not be destroyed a second time.

I reached Ylisstol later that day, and didn't have to wait long; Emmeryn was out walking amongst her people when I arrived. A modest crowd surrounded the square in which she was speaking, with the Pegasus Knight Phila her only guardian. I joined the press, and managed to edge my way to the front.

Lissa's descriptions did not do this woman justice. Her gentle face and collected manner gave her an aura of serenity that calmed those around her. She practically radiated kindness. Emmeryn was the very essence of an Exalt, and I could see now why no one had ever taken the title after her death in the future. No one had believed they could live up to her, and I was inclined to agree with them.

"…we mustn't allow our anger to overcome our reason," she was saying to the assembled crowd. "Peace is always a possibility, even when it seems far away."

"The Plegians have no respect for peace!" A man shouted from the crowd. "Their bandits burn our fields and plunder our villages, and the Mad King just pats them on the back and sends them on their way!"

"Yet there is more to Plegia than just King Gangrel," Emmeryn replied softly. "Many people across the border hope for peace as well. We simply need to reach out to them."

"But Exalt Emmeryn, even if that is so we must look to our own people. With the constant raids and now these rumors of attacks by undead monstrosities, the security of Ylisse is at risk. How will we answer this?"

"The Shepherds mobilize even now to safeguard the people, but it is true that they are sorely taxed. In times of hardship, we look to our friends to support us when we fall." Emmeryn was addressing their arguments singularly, yet it felt like she was speaking to all of us.

"You mean those Feroxi brutes? Hah! They're too busy fighting each other to help us!"

"If you are referring to the Khans' tournament," Phila said coolly, "The Feroxi use it to decide their nation's leadership. These troubles affect us all. They will come to our aid, should we request it."

Several voices raised in protest, but I had seen enough for my purposes. I turned and shouldered my way back through the crowd to the open street. I stopped to consider what I had just heard.

I remembered a story my mother once told me about a time when she had saved my father's life in a skirmish against Feroxi soldiers. I'd always wondered why they'd been fighting against their allies, but I never asked her about it.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. When Chrom arrived back in Ylisstol, Emmeryn was going to send him north to make an alliance with the Khans of Regna Ferox and request their aid. They would approach the East Khan, Flavia, but it was Basilio of the West who held total power at this time. Chrom and his Shepherds would act as Flavia's champions in the coming tournament, and with their victory they would secure the assistance that Emmeryn sought.

An idea formed in my mind. I could travel north into Regna Ferox ahead of my father's group and act as the West Khan's champion in the tournament. This would serve as a test with two purposes: the first, to determine for myself whether or not Chrom was truly strong enough to help me change the course of time; the second, to measure my own resolve. I had to be certain that I could fight against even my own father if it became necessary in order to safeguard this world's future.

Without any other plans, I decided to follow this course of action. I left Ylisstol with the dawn, following the road north to the border of Regna Ferox. Only a handful of weary travelers shared the road with me, and none of them stopped to talk. At one point I noticed some suspicious figures to one side of the path who were most likely bandits in my estimation, but they seemed daunted by my appearance.

Inwardly, I smiled. It seemed there were advantages to wearing a mask. People found it intimidating, as though it took more courage to hide one's face than to display it proudly. Well, I would be happy to use their superstitions to my advantage.

It took me most of the day to arrive at the Long Fort, the defensive bulwark that formed the border between Ylisse and Regna Ferox. The guards there seemed tense and suspicious of me, but once I declared that I was on my way to the Arena to take part in the tournament they became quite accommodating. Tired from the day's travel, I accepted their offer to remain overnight in the barracks. The off duty Feroxi soldiers badgered me with all kinds of frivolous questions, but my silence proved an effective deterrent.

As I made my way through the countryside of Regna Ferox towards the Arena the next morning, I considered the task ahead of me. In order to take the position of the West Khan's champion, I would need to defeat his current champion in single combat. And I already knew who that would be: Lon'qu.

I knew this man quite well. In my time, he had joined my father after their battle in the tournament. Lon'qu had been one of my first teachers with the sword, and I have him to thank for most of my skill. He was still remembered in my time as a peerless master of the blade who even the Risen could not bring down. It had taken Grima himself collapsing the entire fort in which Lon'qu had taken shelter to finally finish him off.

This would be a younger, less experienced Lon'qu, but he was still a dangerous opponent. However, this past Lon'qu had a great weakness, one that he would eventually grow out of with time. He did not like speaking of it, but others had told me that he had once possessed a crippling fear of women. Any time one came close enough to him, he would seize up and have difficulty maintaining his focus.

He wouldn't know that I was a woman, of course, but that didn't matter. His reaction was an involuntary thing, and even the slightest mistake on his part would give me an opening with which to defeat him. I admit the thought of taking advantage of a good friend's crippling psychological problem disturbed me. But I remembered that I had come here to test my own resolve, and that I had to be ready to do anything to succeed, even if I found it distasteful.

When I finally came into view of it, Arena Ferox made an inspiring sight. Built an equal distance between the palaces of the East and West Khans, the grand structure had been designed to invoke strength and determination in the hearts of men. Contests were held year round, but this tournament had brought people from a great distance. The Arena was not built to house all of them, but a village of tents surrounded it on all sides.

I made my way carefully through the crowds to one of the Arena's gates, where two Feroxi soldiers stood on guard. Just like at the Long Fort, a declaration of my intent opened the way and gained me a guide who would take me to the man I was challenging.

The soldier escorted me to a spacious training hall in which a number of men were sparring in pairs. Lon'qu himself stood at the far end of the hall, watching the proceedings with a critical eye. His black hair and dusky look were almost exactly as I remembered them. The announcement that I was here to challenge for the position of champion of the West drew his attention quickly enough. The hall was cleared by one barked command from him, the Feroxi soldiers lining up along the walls to witness the contest.

He did not bother to bandy words or taunt me, nor did I expect him to. Silent efficiency had ever been Lon'qu's style. Stepping forward, he drew his sword and settled into a two handed stance. I mirrored his form and awaited his attack.

Lon'qu's opening thrust and the rapid exchange that followed confirmed my suspicions. He had much the same technique as the older version of himself who had taught me, but he wasn't nearly as deft as I remembered. I read hesitation in his next series of blows, each of which I dodged or parried in turn. It seemed that his concentration was already failing.

I took the offensive with a daring lunge that placed my body closer to him than would normally be practical. Rather than seize the opportunity I had presented him with, Lon'qu attempted to disengage. I followed closely, not allowing him to put distance between us. Our swords met again and again as he retreated with me in hot pursuit. His slashes and parries became increasingly wild and his consternation was palpable; he gritted his teeth as though in great pain, and he visibly winced each time my assault brought me close to him.

The time had come to finish our duel, I realized. If this carried on much longer Lon'qu might seriously injure one of us with his frenzied attacks. In the midst of our next exchange I began a thrust aimed at his chest but pulled my blow before he parried it. His sword came up anyways, and with him off balance I swiftly disarmed him before placing Falchion's edge against his neck.

There was dead silence in the hall for a long moment, broken by the sound of someone clapping. I turned to find the source – a giant of a man who had entered the room behind me. His plate armor was gold with fur trimmings, and he wore a black eye patch over his left eye. Bald and dark skinned, he projected an immense presence in the hall.

This could only be Khan Basilio. I had never met him, but I had heard many stories of his good nature and dry sense of humor. His death in battle against Walhart the Conqueror had dealt a significant blow to the Ylissean League, and though they had triumphed in the end it had come at a high cost. Depending on how events unfolded with my intervention, I might have to step in to save this man from his fate as well.

"Excellent!" Basilio exclaimed, ceasing his applause. He had a powerful, booming voice, even in normal conversation. "I've never seen the like before. Tell me, lad, what's your name?"

"…Marth."

"Not much for words, is he?" Basilio said. "And taking the name of the legend himself? Well, I suppose he's not using it." He laughed heartily, though he was the only one who did.

Belatedly, I realized that I still had my sword at Lon'qu's neck. This close, my presence would still be causing him immense discomfort. What I had done was already questionable, but I would not be needlessly cruel to him. I sheathed Falchion and stepped away.

"Well," Basilio continued, "You've earned your place as my champion, Marth. I think you'll win this tournament with ease; I hear Flavia doesn't even have her champions decided yet, and the match is tomorrow. Looks like I'll get to hold power over her head awhile longer."

I did not correct him, though I knew exactly who Flavia's champions would be. Even if I managed to defeat my father, I would still have to throw the match in order to ensure that Ylisse received the aid of Regna Ferox. Otherwise, there was no telling what kind of damage would be done to time's flow.

It seemed a shame to disappoint such an earnest man, but I knew it wouldn't bring him down. The tales I'd heard painted Basilio as the most jolly and upbeat person in the entire Ylissean League.

There were a handful of other details to work out before the Khan was satisfied. I told him that the men Lon'qu had selected to fight at his side in the tournament would be good enough for me as well. They would serve to occupy the other Shepherds while I faced my father one on one. Basilio wanted to know where I was from, so I told him I had been born in Ylisse but did not clarify any further. He seemed to realize that he wasn't going to get very much out of me, and he left the hall soon afterwards.

A messenger arrived in the evening bringing the news that Flavia's champions were Prince Chrom of Ylisse and his Shepherds. They would leave the East Khan's palace early in the morning to travel to the Arena for the contest. Talk spread throughout the Arena of how strong the Ylisseans would be, and what their motives for entering the tournament were. I already knew the latter, and the former I intended to find out.

I did not sleep well that night. The image of Lon'qu's pained face as he faced defeat at my hands kept floating through my mind. He was my friend, and he deserved better from me than this. I tried to remind myself of the vow I had sworn, but it felt hollow. What would the new future be worth in the end if I had to utilize such underhanded methods to achieve it? It was a question to which I did not have an answer.

This would not be the only such dilemma I would face. I hadn't forgotten that the only thing I had been told about my father's death was that he had been betrayed by a close friend. If killing that friend was the only way to save him, I would have to accept that sin as well. Chrom was self-sacrificing to a fault - he would never allow such a thing if he had a choice, which meant that I could not afford to give him one.

Flavia and her champions arrived a few hours after dawn. Now that all the participants were here, the excitement surrounding the Arena reached a new intensity. The people who had come to watch the battle crowded into the main ring to claim a spot, though we were still on standby. The five men Lon'qu had selected waited with me. Each side would have six fighters total.

At last the horns were sounded, and we marched out into the Arena. The roaring of the audience reached its peak, a cacophony of sound that assaulted the senses. It would be easy to get distracted, but I was certain that I could keep my focus.

The Shepherds exited the gate opposite ours, spreading into a wide fan as they came closer. Chrom led them, and with him were Frederick, Sully, Kellam, and Vaike. Their last member, unsurprisingly, was the black haired stranger. He walked beside Chrom, and I knew if I looked at his face I'd find that bemused smile there.

Chrom did a double take upon seeing me. He leaned over towards the stranger and a succession of whispers passed between them. He straightened at the sound of the horns announcing the beginning of the match, a satisfied look on his face.

Both sides advanced cautiously into the center of the ring. I remained behind the line the other champions of the West had formed. With Falchion drawn and ready, I paced cautiously while searching for an opening to engage my father. He was out front of the other Shepherds, his own Falchion held in a one handed guard stance. The two groups circled each other like hunting cats.

A resonating cry went up as the champions of the West charged. I trailed behind them, hoping that I could pick Chrom out of the chaos once the melee began. To my surprise, my father countercharged, broke through the line and closed with me at a sprint. It seemed he'd had the same idea as me, hunting down the opposing side's strongest fighter for a duel. Well, I would be happy to oblige him.

Chrom began with a sweeping horizontal slash that I deflected before pulling back and thrusting at his neck. He parried my thrust, but I swiftly broke off into the next strike before he could counter. Each time he moved to block me I withdrew the blow and struck from another direction. It kept him on the defensive, but he read my pattern before long.

He didn't bother to block my next overhead slash, instead sidestepping it and bringing his blade up in a diagonal cut. I barely managed to parry with my own sword, the impact of the powerful blow reverberating up my arms. He maintained the contact, pushing hard in an attempt to break my guard.

I was in trouble, but before Chrom could take advantage of it he got a good look at our two swords locked together and his eyes widened. The blades were identical, right down to the hilt. Falchion was a unique weapon blessed by Naga herself, and yet he was seeing two of them.

"That's impossible," he muttered under his breath.

I used his moment of distraction to disengage, settling back into a defensive stance. He approached cautiously, switching to a two handed grip. His eyes were narrowed in confusion; the mystery of the two Falchions seemed to weigh heavily on his mind.

All the same, the tales I'd been told of my father's skill with a blade had proven to be true. He wasn't nearly as agile as I was, but he made up for it with sheer brute strength. His every strike had an incredible amount of force behind it, and a blade lock like the one I'd just gotten out of was an invitation for him to overpower me. Even one slip would be one too many against Chrom.

Our next series of exchanges was more measured. Tentative strikes were turned aside with ease, and neither of us committed to an offensive. It seemed as though our duel was going to be a longwinded affair, ending only when one of us made a mistake. Unless, of course, the other Shepherds intervened. I hadn't kept track of the other combatants. It was quite possible that my erstwhile comrades had already been defeated.

Following my next disengage, I spared a moment to look past Chrom. As I'd suspected, the other champions of the West were all down, either unconscious or having been disarmed. The Shepherds hadn't triumphed without injury, but they were all still standing.

Chrom sensed my lack of attention and lunged forward, his Falchion slicing a gleaming arc towards my neck. I reacted a fraction of a second too slowly, and though I deflected his slash it knocked me off balance. My feet slid out from under me, and all at once my back was against the ground and the point of my father's sword was hovering in front of my throat.

"I… yield," I managed. How had it happened so fast? I'd believed it would take some time for one of us to gain an insurmountable advantage against the other, but he'd capitalized on a single instant of carelessness on my part and now it was over.

Chrom sheathed Falchion and stepped back. He was joined immediately by the stranger, and they nodded at one another. All else was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd, which I had been shutting out during the fight.

I was still in a daze when they announced the East's victory. Fortunately, nobody was paying attention to the loser in all of the chaos, so I was able to slip out of the building ahead of the masses. I left the Arena behind and made my way into the wilderness, looking for a quiet spot in which to collect my thoughts.

A little tranquility and a few deep breaths calmed me. I would've had to lose regardless, I reminded myself, and so the outcome was unimportant. My purpose here had been fulfilled - I had tested both my father and myself. He was everything I'd dreamed he would be, strong enough to help me change the course of history if I could prevent his death. Deep down, I was actually quite proud that Chrom was so powerful.

As for my own test, I had faced my father in combat without wavering, but it seemed that my determination needed tempering nonetheless. My brief duel with Lon'qu had shown me that, and for that I owed him thanks.

A much more important trial loomed on the horizon, and I needed to prepare myself for it. If I lost my focus again, the cost might be too much to bear.


	4. Chapter Three: Night of Knives

**Chapter Three: Night of Knives**

Everywhere I travelled over the next few days, people were talking about the Khans' tournament and the alliance between Ylisse and Regna Ferox. There were as many differing opinions as people in some of the villages I passed through. Naturally, most of them were far from the truth.

I had decided not to take any further action until the night of Emmeryn's assassination, at least not directly. Instead, I roamed across much of Regna Ferox before re-crossing the border back into Ylisse. My hope had been that I would pick up on a trail that might lead me to find my lost comrades, the ones who had travelled through the Rift with me. Even if they had appeared in totally different places, at least a few of them should have been spat out by now.

To my chagrin, I heard nothing that would indicate the presence of one of my friends. It wasn't until I'd wandered for days fruitlessly that I realized that I was unlikely to find any traces of them, even if they had appeared in this time. It wasn't as though they would go around claiming to be from the future, at least not right away. Risen were suddenly appearing all over the world, and there was no telling which of them might have been brought here by the Rift.

Frustrated, I stayed close to Ylisstol with my ears to the ground hoping to catch anything that might be of help. Even though I was all but certain that Chrom and Emmeryn would be in no danger until the predetermined time, I still felt hesitant about wandering away again.

At the very least, I did manage to make some progress investigating the stranger I'd seen twice now with my father. He went by the name Destin, and if the rumors were to be believed then Chrom had found him lying unconscious in a field in the south of Ylisse. He claimed to have no memory of his life until that moment, although there was no way to determine the veracity of that particular statement. I was inclined to believe it; it would explain the look of helplessness I'd seen in his eyes the night I'd arrived in the past.

Either way, my father had more or less drafted this Destin into the Shepherds. He was already proving to be one of their most useful members despite having been around for less than two weeks. I had already seen that he was skilled in both swordplay and sorcery, and it seemed that he was an aspiring tactician as well. One thing on which all the rumors agreed was that he had my father's full confidence, giving him a powerful benefactor within Ylisse.

Knowing all of this only solidified my desire to prevent his death as well as the others. Regardless of the circumstances in which he would fall, Destin would make a useful ally in the fight to prevent Grima's return if I could keep him alive.

The day of the assassination dawned dull and overcast. Emmeryn, Chrom, and the Shepherds had departed Ylisstol yesterday, heading for the border with Plegia. News of a conflict there and the capture of Maribelle, a member of the Shepherds who was also the daughter of a prestigious noble family, by Plegian soldiers had brought them out to meet with Gangrel. But the Mad King had no interest in reparations or compromises. He wanted a war, and a war was exactly what he would get.

There would be a modest skirmish between the Shepherds and the Plegians, at the end of which Emmeryn and her escort would return to Ylisstol. While they were still grappling with the fact that they were at war once again, the Grimleal would strike. Without my intervention, Emmeryn would be killed and my father gravely injured – a wound that would later contribute to his downfall.

I'd considered the merits of attempting to hunt down some of the Grimleal before they made their move to reduce the number of potential enemies, but I eventually discarded the notion as impractical. The Grimleal were adept at hiding amongst normal people, and would not show any signs of suspicious activity until they were ready to strike. I would have difficulty being certain that anyone I found was really a cultist. It seemed my only option was to stop the assassination while it was in progress.

A general malaise had settled over Ylisstol. Whether it was the unknown presence of the Grimleal among them or the Exalt's absence, people throughout the city were on edge and much less friendly than they'd been a few days ago. It lifted only slightly with Emmeryn's return later in the day; she and her escort headed straight for the palace and didn't stop to chat.

As the sun set and darkness descended on the city, I knew that the time to act had come. The gates to the palace were guarded, of course, but I knew of a secret way in. There was a cleft in the stone wall surrounding the palace training ground, left there from when Chrom had damaged it while drilling the Shepherds. It was virtually unnoticeable from the outside, but I had seen the crack in the wall in my future and Lissa had told me of its origins.

I didn't encounter anyone else until I had reached the courtyard leading in to the palace on this side. Two figures were standing outside the door talking. I hid in a nearby clump of bushes and edged in closer. The figures turned out to be Chrom and Destin.

"…I don't claim to know how she does it," my father was saying. "I could never return such hostility with warmth and patience. While the people of Ylisse vilified her, she reached out and healed them. She ended the war and brought the soldiers home to their families. And when Ylisse's spirit was mended and the people 'forgave' her, she never once resented them for it. She represents the best of the Halidom – the part most worth protecting."

I knew that he was speaking of Emmeryn. I had heard the whole of the sorry tale from Lissa among others. Emmeryn and Chrom's father, the previous Exalt, had been a crazed tyrant who had brought both Plegia and Ylisse to ruination in a terrible war before his death. Much of Plegia's current hostility towards Ylisse was born of the mere memory of the man and the things he'd done. I still don't fully understand how the three children of such a monster turned out to be among the most righteous and kind people in the world.

"Some men would take advantage of her. Men like Gangrel." Chrom grew agitated, his hand closing into a fist. "The day he understands peace will be the day death gives it to him. So perhaps I must be death's agent. Emmeryn will never order him killed, nor would I wish her to. I will accept the stain on my soul if I must, so that hers might remain pure."

Instinct told me that the moment had arrived. I left my cover and approached the two men. "Well spoken," I said as they turned to face me. I meant it. Chrom's sentiment was correct, and reinforced the impression I already had of him.

"Marth…" Chrom was understandably surprised by my appearance. "How did you get in here unannounced?"

"A flaw in the wall behind the maple grove," I replied. "I'm certain you know of it."

"Yes, but how did you find out about…? Ugh. Never mind. Why are you here?"

"To warn you," I said. At such an important juncture, I didn't have the luxury of acting subtly. It was time to cast the die, for good or ill. "If I told you I knew what tomorrow holds in store, would you believe me? If I said that I had seen a future in which Exalt Emmeryn would die this very night?"

"You claim to have seen the future?" Chrom demanded irritably. "Have you lost your wits?"

"It's only natural for you to be skeptical," I said. A slight rustling in the bushes to our left gave away what was coming. It was only a small sound, easily ignored, but I already knew what would happen here. "So allow me to prove it!" I placed one hand on Falchion's hilt, preparing to draw. Chrom did likewise; it seemed he thought that I was going to attack him.

"What are you-"

The assassin and I moved simultaneously. A shadowy figure darted from the bushes towards Chrom, the wickedly serrated dagger in his hand flashing in the dim torchlight. I leapt forwards at an angle that took me past my father, drawing Falchion and slashing out the instant my foot touched the ground. My blade sheared through the assassin's throat when he was less than a foot away from my father, unleashing a spray of blood. His knife dropped from lifeless fingers and clattered to the cobblestones.

"Saving your life," I said, turning back to face Chrom and Destin. "Do you still doubt me?"

My eyes widened in surprise behind the mask when a second rustling sound came from behind me. I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid; of course there'd be another assassin! I tried to turn to meet him, but I already knew that I was far too late.

Destin reacted faster than me and threw his full weight into me, knocking me roughly to one side. The assassin's sword slashed down diagonally, directly where my skull would have been otherwise. He didn't miss entirely, even then – the very tip of his blade cut through the thin metal of my mask, slicing it in two almost straight down the center. The severed halves fell to the ground along with me.

The assassin pulled his sword back for a quick thrust, but once again Destin proved faster. Without time to draw his own sword, he instead brought his left hand up and unleashed a burst of fire directly into his attacker's face. The man flew backwards from the force of the spell with smoke rising from underneath his hood.

Chrom pounced on the beleaguered assassin with Falchion already drawn. He landed on the man's back and thrust straight through his heart, killing him instantly. My father quickly withdrew his blade and leapt to his feet, searching the darkened courtyard for more assailants. None appeared.

I used the time in which Chrom and Destin were busy looking for assassins to get to my feet. Somehow, I felt exposed without my mask. Its severing had also snapped the tie I'd been using to bind my hair, which now fell in waves over the back of my neck. So much for that deception, I thought morosely. Chrom and Destin came back then, stopping in front of me.

"You're a… woman?" Chrom asked.

I gave a most unladylike snort. "I thought you'd figure it out sooner," I replied. "It's not important right now. There are more of them, and the Exalt's life is in danger."

My father looked at me oddly, and for a moment I thought he still didn't believe me. Then an alarmed shout from the higher levels of the palace claimed his attention. It seemed that the idea of his sister in mortal peril was enough to clear away any other priorities.

"Right," he said.

The three of us sprinted into the palace. Somehow Chrom managed to bellow for the Shepherds to defend the Exalt even as we were running down the hall and up the stairs that would take us to Emmeryn's level. We burst through the door into an antechamber right next to the Exalt's room, finding several of the Shepherds already there with weapons drawn.

"Chrom!" Stahl called, hurrying over to meet us. "We're under attack!"

"I know," Chrom replied. "They're assassins, here to murder Exalt Emmeryn."

"Plegians?" Several more of the Shepherds arrived behind us.

"I don't know. We have to defend her. If we can just last long enough, the city militia will be roused and they'll sweep the palace like a flood. Destin?"

"On it," Destin replied, touching one hand to his forehead and adopting a look of concentration. "There are only three ways in here: the two main halls to either side and the staircase we just used. Sully, Stahl, Ricken, Maribelle, and Virion will cover the left side hall. Vaike, Miriel, and Frederick will take the staircase. Chrom, Lissa, Kellam, Sumia, Lon'qu, and I will watch the right hall. Keep your ears open for further orders, and hold tightly to the Exalt's quarters. Don't let them lure you out."

The Shepherds nodded and moved off to their assigned tasks. I was shocked. I'd always thought of my father as the leader of the Shepherds, but they were all taking orders from Destin like they'd been doing it forever. I didn't know enough about tactics to judge his deployments, though they seemed logical enough. It was just jarring to see him take command so easily. It seemed I had underestimated this man.

"And me?" I asked from behind him.

He turned to face me, and instantly a grin formed on his face. "I'm afraid you're not part of my chain of command, milady. If you're volunteering, however, kindly guard the door to the Exalt's room. If anyone slips past the defensive groups it'll be up to you to stop them."

"As you like," I said. "Oh, and one other thing. You're going to see a taguel, a beastlike woman, joining the fight. She isn't our enemy. Her name is Panne, and she only came here to honor a debt to Exalt Emmeryn."

"I'll see to it that she doesn't get stabbed, at least not by us. If you'll excuse me." He took a very slight bow and then walked off to join Chrom's group.

I watched Destin go with conflicted feelings. It was the strangest thing; his manner and tone had been just shy of mocking, yet he'd given me the most important task of any of us. He knew next to nothing about me aside from the little I'd revealed, yet he trusted me with the Exalt's life. I hadn't forgotten that he'd already risked his life tonight to save mine. What was his game?

The next twenty minutes were, I admit, a bit nerve-wracking for me. Even though not a single assassin got past the Shepherds, it was difficult to just stand there at the door while the sounds of battle echoed from all directions. Groups of attackers clashed with the Shepherds at each of the three entrances, but the defensive groups held strong. The enemy attempted to lure our fighters further out into the hall, just as Destin predicted they would, but they had no success.

Finally, it was over. With no one speaking to me directly, I had to learn what I could from snippets of conversation between the Shepherds. Chrom and Destin had cornered and killed the man they believed to be the assassins' leader. A number of the attackers had not been Grimleal at all, but rather common thugs and thieves lured in with the promise of gold. These had scattered once things started to go wrong, and one had actually switched sides once he realized they were here to murder the Exalt. Apparently Chrom had bribed the man as well – with candy. Well, I suppose it takes all sorts.

With the threat passed, I took the opportunity to leave. Despite what I had revealed to Chrom tonight, there were still too many questions I couldn't answer at this point. Without the mask to cover my face any conversation with my father was potentially dangerous – he could not be allowed to see the Brand of the Exalt in my left eye yet. I snuck back to the crack in the wall undetected, but…

"You've a bad habit of leaving without saying goodbye," Chrom said, emerging from the shadow of the wall.

"I'm afraid I have many bad habits," I said lightly. I turned my head at such an angle that he wouldn't be able to get a good look at my left eye.

"But you've also saved my life, as well as those of both of my sisters. I don't know what I can do to repay you."

"The knowledge that I've righted a terrible wrong is reward enough," I replied. "History has been rewritten for the better."

"And the future we just averted?"

"Dreadful beyond your wildest dreams. With the Exalt dead and the Fire Emblem stolen, mankind would have been pulled into a ruinous war and eventually brought to its own destruction." Better not to mention Grima just yet.

"I can believe it," Chrom said. "Despite your actions, we may still be closer to that than you or I would like. Nevertheless, I thank you. I feel like I can trust you, and I hope that a day comes when I can repay you for what you've done."

"I'll look forward to that day, then." I slipped through the cleft and in seconds I was back out on the dark streets of Ylisstol.

I stopped to take one long look back at the palace, which was now swarming with activity as guards searched the premises thoroughly for any signs of further assassins. I hadn't shown it, but my father saying that he trusted me had made me feel proud. There had always been something missing from my life in my own world, but fate had given me this chance to know my father as I never could have before.

The future had been changed. All that remained was to see where the flow of time would take us to next.


	5. Chapter Four: The Meaning of Sacrifice

**Chapter Four: The Meaning of Sacrifice**

Twigs crunched loudly beneath my feet as I ran full out between trees and rocks, scattering all manner of animals with my passage. I was about as stealthy as a galloping horse. Fortunately, the enemies I was trying to avoid were either inattentive or too far away to hear my ruckus. I sprinted out onto the top of a sheer cliff and knelt down to look.

On the road below the cliff face was a column of Plegian soldiers marching back towards the border. Many of these men were Gangrel's own, handpicked for their ruthlessness and loyalty to the Mad King. They complained loudly amongst themselves that they hadn't had a chance to stop in a town for three days, but discipline was good enough to prevent any brawls from breaking out. Somewhere in the middle of that column were Exalt Emmeryn and her escort.

Gods, how had things managed to go so wrong so fast?

The Exalt had departed Ylisstol the morning after the assassination attempt, heading east with Chrom and his Shepherds escorting her. However, she'd turned back after a skirmish with Plegian soldiers, who had infiltrated far into Ylisse. Chrom had travelled north into Regna Ferox to discuss the coming war with the Khans and assemble their troops, leaving Emmeryn with only Phila and a handful of Pegasus Knights to go back to Ylisstol.

Why had Chrom let her go? He had to have known what was going to happen. The Exalt had scarcely arrived back in the city before the Plegian army got there and demanded that she surrender in exchange for them not sacking Ylisstol. Being Emmeryn, she had accepted their terms and was now on her way to Plegia in chains for her trouble.

I knew what was happening. The timeline was trying to reassert itself, to erase my corrections and return to the path of destruction. There was no doubt in my mind that Gangrel would execute Emmeryn. Chrom's assessment of the Mad King had been all too accurate. He was more a beast than a man, a wild animal without a place among honest people. Such a man would only ever know peace in his grave.

The only good news was that the Fire Emblem was safely in Chrom's possession. It was a terrible way to look at the situation, but in terms of averting Grima's return the Emblem's security was more important than Emmeryn's life. There was, however, a significant risk that Chrom might try to barter it for his sister. In all likelihood Gangrel would accept the deal, take the Emblem and then kill Emmeryn anyways.

I'd begun shadowing the Plegian force immediately after I'd found out what had happened. They were supremely confident in their strength, not bothering to send outriders or use their wyvern soldiers to scout the area. It allowed me to remain unseen while travelling at speed, but I still wasn't sure just what I could accomplish here.

Originally I had hoped that if I followed them long enough, I could infiltrate their camp and rescue Emmeryn in a moment of carelessness. But although the Plegian soldiers might be brutish thugs, they still surrounded the Exalt with guards each night. I had been fighting against mindless Risen far longer than I'd been fighting against thinking human beings, and it showed. There didn't seem to be much I could do except keep on their trail and wait for a chance to act.

They passed the border without incident and were well on their way to Plegia Castle, yet still no opportunity came. I began to feel like I was wasting my time, but I didn't know what else to do. It was much harder for me to blend in without suspicion in the villages of Plegia, but I did manage to keep myself supplied. Rumors were much scarcer here, the people eternally gloomy and downtrodden. This was what became of a nation in which the Grimleal were the primary religion. I could practically feel the lifelessness of this place. It disturbed me on a very deep level.

I had never enjoyed my time spent in Plegia, even in my own world. It was a realm of blazing hot deserts and tall mountains that did not suit me. Blinding sandstorms were all too common here, and one such storm arose as I followed the Plegian soldiers back to their master.

It seemed that Chrom had gotten word of his sister's fate, since what little I did overhear suggested that the Feroxi army was invading Plegia from the north. No doubt Chrom and his Shepherds were the vanguard, desperately pushing for Gangrel's location before he had a chance to make use of his captive.

Whatever speed they were moving at, it wasn't nearly fast enough. The Plegian column entered the castle courtyard without incident, and Gangrel wasted no time. As soon as he had his subjects assembled to witness his triumph, Emmeryn was paraded in front of them in chains and preparations for a swift execution were made. I managed to hide myself on a hilltop just outside the entrance to the courtyard, but though it afforded me a good position I could not approach any closer without being seen by the Plegians.

Partially buried in the mountain that flanked Plegia Castle on one side was an enormous skeleton, the last remnant of some unknown creature of antiquity. I had seen it in my own time, and even then I had wondered about just what it was that could leave such a colossal edifice of bone. I had felt, and still do, that it was linked somehow to Grima – though I don't know how. It was on top of this massive skeleton that they took Emmeryn.

A burly Plegian soldier with an axe followed behind the Exalt, pushing her further and further out onto one of the skeleton's extremities. She was clearly visible to everyone watching from the courtyard and further beyond. A fall from that height would kill her, though I rather doubted Gangrel intended to leave it to chance.

The Mad King couldn't pass up an opportunity to gloat, of course. I was too far away to hear him clearly, which may well have been for the best. What little I did catch was simply Gangrel crowing about how the wicked Exalt was being punished for her atrocities against humble Plegia, of which there had been none. Did anyone, even Gangrel himself, really believe a word he said? It seemed ridiculous, but I suppose some people can trick themselves into believing anything. This was a nation full of people who worshipped a dragon bent on destroying them, after all.

In the midst of Gangrel's boasting, I noticed figures materializing out of the swirling sand like ghosts. The castle courtyard was cut off from the desert proper by a long stone wall, and on the other side of the wall Plegian soldiers were being cut down one after another. Gangrel seemed to realize that they were under attack and signaled for the executioner to kill Emmeryn.

I had to squint to see it, but one of the attackers on the other side of the wall wound up and hurled something far upwards to where Emmeryn was. It was difficult to believe that such a throw was possible – the sheer distance and height it had to travel was immense. Yet the tiny object, a throwing axe, arced true and buried itself in the neck of the man behind Emmeryn. He lost his balance and plummeted off the skeleton to the ground.

All control of the situation was lost at that point. Plegian soldiers surged out of the courtyard, but with the sand obscuring their vision they couldn't strike back without exposing themselves. To make things worse for them, it was evident that they were under attack from more than one direction. After losing several squads the remainder pulled back into the entrance to the courtyard and awaited their enemies.

Sure enough, the Shepherds advanced out of the sand in formation with Chrom leading the way. They would've had to maintain an exhausting pace all the way across Plegia to get here in time, yet it didn't seem to be affecting them. The knowledge that their beloved Exalt was in danger must have spurred them onwards. Yet this was clearly no headlong rush – they had a plan, probably crafted by Destin for just this situation, and they executed it brilliantly.

The Plegian soldiers eagerly marched to meet them, the wyvern riders they'd been holding back swooping down on the attackers. A barrage of wind spells shot forth from the Shepherds' line, knocking the beasts and their riders out of the sky and forcing the few remaining to go to ground in order to avoid a similar fate. The two sides met in a clash of steel, and it quickly became apparent that the Plegians had underestimated their enemies. The Plegian force practically dissolved to my eyes, and the Shepherds continued their advance unimpeded.

It had taken this long for Gangrel to visibly realize that things were going badly for him. He appeared ready to flee back up the hill to his castle along with the dark woman beside him, but before he could even begin he was knocked to the ground by a squad of Ylissean Pegasus Knights coming from his own fortress. Phila and the rest of her company had been freed from their imprisonment, and now rose towards the Exalt.

I was more than a little impressed. Assuming this was Destin's strategy playing out before me, it was clear now why the Shepherds obeyed him so easily. Launching a multi-pronged offensive using the enemy's own terrain against him was no small feat. Even as I watched, Chrom and the Shepherds broke through the final Plegian line and entered the courtyard to confront Gangrel. It looked as though they had the situation under control on their own.

Of course, time would never consent to change so easily.

The sand of the courtyard gathered and took form as though sculpted by the hand of a god. What had been empty air seconds ago was filled with scores of Risen archers, and more were appearing with each passing second. They raised their bows and loosed towards Emmeryn's position without hesitation.

Phila had reached the Exalt and was just reaching out to Emmeryn when an arrow penetrated through her breast plate from behind. Two more struck her mount, sending the magnificent beast plummeting to the ground. The other Pegasus Knights suffered similar fates. They desperately ducked and dodged, but there was simply no avoiding the hail of arrows that was being unleashed.

Chrom and the Shepherds moved forward as though to charge the Risen, but a shouted command from Gangrel brought them up short as the undead archers turned as one and aimed their arrows at the Exalt. The point was clear – continue their attack and Emmeryn would die.

Eyes wide, I tore my gaze off the drama playing out in the courtyard long enough to take a look around. More Plegian soldiers were arriving in the area from virtually all directions. If this impasse continued much longer, my father and his companions would be completely surrounded and would have no choice but to surrender.

Tense words were spoken between Chrom and Gangrel. Obviously Gangrel wanted the Fire Emblem in exchange for him not killing Emmeryn, but Chrom surely knew that the Mad King was not to be trusted. Gangrel became increasingly aggressive, making wild and threatening gestures. Chrom kept looking down at the golden Emblem, which he had taken to wearing as a shield on his arm. He was deciding in his head which was more important, his sister or the Emblem… and I knew which he would choose.

I had to do something. The way things were unfolding Grima would be freed sooner than in my time, and the situation would become even worse than what I had faced. I ran from my hiding spot to get closer, but an echoing yell brought me up short.

"ENOUGH!" Emmeryn shouted. All eyes turned to her precarious perch. I could scarcely have imagined such a gentle woman raising her voice like this. "King Gangrel, is there no chance you will see reason?"

"Reason? You mean more of your self-righteous nonsense!?" Gangrel spat. "No, I think I'd much rather see the Emblem in my hands and your corpse on the ground."

"Then I will do as I must," Emmeryn called down. She drew herself up and spread her hands wide. "Listen to my words, all of you. War brings nothing but pain and sorrow. We are all of us trapped in a never-ending cycle of hatred. Free yourselves! Plegia! Ylisse! See how one selfless act has the power to change the world!"

Emmeryn closed her eyes and pitched forward off of the gigantic skeleton. Chrom sprinted to the spot she would fall in an attempt to catch her, but the distance was simply too vast. He would not make it in time. I might have expected screams and cries, given the enormity of the moment, but there was dead silence as the Exalt fell. The Shepherds, the Plegian soldiers, even the Risen – everyone just… watched.

I averted my eyes in the instant before she would hit the ground. "Ah, gods. I'm sorry Emmeryn," I murmured. Time was determined to see her dead, and I had failed to stop it. A single tear leaked out of my eye. I had wanted to save this kind woman so much, but I had failed.

When at last I looked up again, the situation had changed. The Shepherds, augmented by a squad of Feroxi soldiers that had just arrived, were withdrawing from the courtyard. Khan Basilio and Destin were forcibly dragging Chrom away from his sister's body. The Plegian forces that had been closing in around them were still in position to attack, but they did not. They all continued staring at the spot where Emmeryn had fallen, totally ignoring the Shepherds as they slipped right out from under them.

Gangrel noticed what was happening and threw a fit, angrily gesturing at the fleeing Ylisseans and shouting for his men to kill them. They still did not move. Only after the retreating Shepherds had disappeared into the desert did they act, and for a third of them this only amounted to disgustedly throwing down their weapons and wandering away from their units. The remaining men began marching slowly in the direction the Shepherds had gone in.

While the Mad King continued his furious tirade, his companion walked over and looked down curiously at the Exalt's body. Whatever she saw there affected her greatly; she shivered despite the heat and hugged herself tightly. She collected herself in a moment or two, regaining her haughty bearing and returning to Gangrel.

What was there left for me to do here?

Emmeryn was dead, and there was no changing that. My father still carried the Fire Emblem thanks to her sacrifice. It had been kept out of Gangrel's hands for the moment. With the Plegian army demoralized and unwilling to fight, the Shepherds would surely escape from Plegia intact. But what would happen then? The war between Plegia and Ylisse in my time had not happened like this at all. I was in uncharted territory, and without the knowledge of what was to come that I had relied on up until this point I didn't know what to do.

Eventually I decided to follow behind the Shepherds and head north. I doubted that I'd be able to catch up to them now, but any further battles would happen on the border between Regna Ferox and Plegia. Ylisse, with nearly all of its military might occupied miles away from its own territory and its beloved Exalt dead, was no longer a concern for the Mad King. He wanted the Fire Emblem, and without a hostage to hold against Chrom he would have to pry it out of my father's cold, dead hands. A prospect that no doubt excited him.

My mood was already dark, and the rain that began shortly after I left Plegia Castle only made it worse. I hadn't expected rain in the desert, yet the drops fell heavily as I made my way north. It was fitting in a way, as though the skies themselves were weeping for Emmeryn.

I couldn't help but wonder what the effect of this changed death would have on my father and his companions. From what I understood, Chrom had rallied our people into a narrow victory over Plegia following Emmeryn's assassination in my own time. Her name had become the battle cry for Ylisse as the Shepherds marched on Plegia to avenge her murder. But this timeline's Emmeryn had cast aside her own life in a final attempt at peace, and to save Chrom from an impossible decision. What would that do to him?

As I travelled, I looked around for anything that would tell me what had happened. All signs indicated that the Shepherds had escaped from Plegia – though not without a fight. They must have made good time at least, for as I neared the border with Regna Ferox I saw no sign of them.

It was late in the day, and I had reached my limit. I needed to find somewhere to rest for the night, though the idea of taking shelter anywhere in Plegia made me feel uneasy. This was enemy territory, after all. Fortunately, I spotted a clearly abandoned watch tower situated on a hill only a few miles south of the border. Closer investigation found it dilapidated, but sufficient for my needs. The Plegians who had abandoned it had even left some blankets behind.

I lay in my appropriated shelter thinking about the day's events. Thus far my intervention had achieved little. If any action I took to create a better future would be answered with such a brutal response, I would only be making things worse. I had no idea how I could possibly fight against time itself without getting involved directly. It seemed an impossible task.

Yet changes had been made as a result of my actions. The war was playing out differently, and my father was both in good health and in possession of the Fire Emblem. Would these alterations be corrected as well, or was I only seeing the beginning of a chain reaction that would lead to our victory?

I was worried. I no longer knew what tomorrow would hold.


	6. Chapter Five: Retribution

**Chapter Five: Retribution**

My dreams that night were troubled. Though I slept through the night, I saw Emmeryn fall many times in my mind. Each time the same question arose: what could I have done differently?

I was awoken late the next morning by the sound of horns in the distance. I groggily extricated myself from my borrowed blankets and made my way up the stairs to the top of the watch tower. I emerged onto the tower's roof to find a clear blue sky and the sun high above. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept this late; all the traveling I'd done over the last few days must've taken more out of me than I'd thought.

To the east was the Plegian army, spread out across the rolling plains of the border. I was more than a little surprised, both at their numbers and that they were there at all. Gangrel must have begun gathering every soldier he could find after I'd taken my leave and marched north through the night to arrive here. I didn't know just how many soldiers Plegia had in its entire military, but with the desertions taking their toll I suspected that Gangrel couldn't call together any more men than this.

I couldn't find the Mad King himself in the horde, but that mystery was easily solved. Gangrel's banner was southwest of my position with his own force, massing around a sizable fortress he'd taken as a headquarters. They were but a fraction of the main army, but I was certain that those were Gangrel's elites with him. I suppose he had no desire to engage in combat himself after his narrow victory yesterday.

It seemed luck was with me in any case. Plegian soldiers could easily have marched up here to garrison the tower and I probably wouldn't have woken up before it was too late. Even now they didn't make a move. All of their attention was focused on the border. If there was to be a battle here, I would have a fine vantage from which to observe.

The horns sounded again – from the north. I squinted into the distance and could barely make out the vanguard of an approaching army. Rank after rank of soldiers came into my view as they marched towards the waiting Plegians. But there was something missing. I carefully scanned the lines of the advancing force, but I saw no trace of Ylisseans. This was an entirely Feroxi army, and now that they were closer I could make out Khans Basilio and Flavia at their head. Where were the Shepherds?

I felt increasingly uneasy as the Feroxi army continued its march. There was no way the Shepherds would willingly stay out of the battle that would likely decide the outcome of the entire war. Had Emmeryn's sacrifice shaken Chrom so much that he couldn't bring himself to fight? I had taken his measure, and I believed him to be stronger than that. But if I was wrong…

The battle was quickly approaching. It was evident from their advance that the Feroxi had no intention of parleying or lining up; they were going to march straight into combat, and may the gods help whoever stood in their way. Emmeryn had been a symbol to Regna Ferox as well, even if her peace was not theirs. I don't imagine the Khans were feeling very merciful at that particular moment.

I'm not certain whether the Plegian army sensed this or was still feeling the effects of Emmeryn's sacrifice, but it became more restless the closer the Feroxi came. I suspected that virtually every soldier who had been present at the castle yesterday was either dead or deserting, and many of the men in this army didn't seem ready to fight.

It was something I could never have predicted. I had heard Emmeryn telling her people that the Plegians wanted peace as much as we did, but perhaps I hadn't truly understood until now. She had always understood. Men would no longer obey Gangrel when he preached naught but hate, because they had seen another way. The Exalt had known that the price for freeing them was her life and had paid it without hesitation.

But Plegia would never be truly free until the Mad King no longer ruled it. Those who resisted him from within would never raise their hands to strike him down, for to do that would be to throw away what Emmeryn had shown them. I was reminded of Chrom's words back in Ylisstol, when he affirmed that he would act as death's agent and kill Gangrel when the time came. That agent of death was needed now.

The Feroxi horns sounded one last time before the two armies collided. They were answered by yet more horns to the northwest. A signal of some sort? But there were no Feroxi forces in the field opposite Gangrel's position. There seemed to be nothing there at all, until the sunlight caught polished steel far below and reflected, betraying what was hidden there.

The Shepherds' spirit had not been broken.

Somehow, they had hidden their movement along the side of the field and only now showed themselves as they advanced towards Gangrel's position. Panicked shouts rose amongst his guards, who hurriedly organized themselves for battle. The Mad King himself remained secure in his fortress while Plegian troops poured out of the gate to meet the attack.

The Ylisseans maintained a measured approach as they crossed the field. This wasn't a desperate rush or a sneak attack meant to fade away; it was rather as though they had shown up for an appointed meeting. Perhaps it was. Gangrel had to have died at some point in the war during my time, and it might have been in a battle much like this one. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. That was the nature of time.

A field of battle swiftly took shape before my eyes. The Plegians divided into three main groups, one remaining with Gangrel while the other two took up positions between the Shepherds and the fortress. They seemed intent on fighting a defensive battle. I watched curiously as the Shepherds drew close to the two groups of Plegian soldiers. What manner of strategy would Destin employ this time to give his companions the advantage?

It didn't take long for me to find out. The moment the Shepherds came into range of the Plegians they halted their advance entirely. A hail of projectiles began issuing from behind their front line; spells of all kinds, arrows, and even javelins and throwing axes tore into the Plegian force. They responded with their own spell barrage, but against the much better organized Shepherds it availed them little. Blasts of lightning and flame struck shields and dissipated before they could do any real damage.

Another volley from the Shepherds was too much for the Plegians to ignore. Both forward groups charged in a shouting mass, the frontrunners swiftly closing with the Ylissean line. Yet the Shepherds didn't offer a straight battle, instead retreating a dozen paces before resuming projectile fire. They continued this staggered retreat, and every time they stopped more Plegians hit the front line and died. I could see where this was going. Each volley reduced the enemy's numbers further, and rather than hitting the Shepherds in one massive wave they were forced to attack in smaller numbers. And once they'd reached their limit…

…the trap closed. The Ylissean cavalry, both Pegasus Knights and conventional horse mounted warriors, surged forward from behind the line to flank the disorganized Plegians on both sides. It took them completely by surprise. Surrounded and goaded into a fury by the Shepherds' tactics, the Plegians charged forward into the line without regard for their lives. The flanking cavalry cut inwards, and the entire Plegian force collapsed. In mere moments they had been annihilated.

I spared a minute to look east at the clash between the larger armies. To my astonishment, that battle was already over. The Feroxi controlled the field, and the only remaining groups of Plegian soldiers were either prisoners or deserters. Spread all across my field of vision were Plegians in ones and twos wandering away from the field, their weapons left behind. I wondered if this was what Emmeryn had foreseen when she'd made her decision; a nation abandoning vengeance and war, turning inward to find meaning in all that had happened.

Basilio and Flavia were now leading a portion of their men around to where the Shepherds were approaching Gangrel's location, though they did not seem to be in any hurry. I suppose they intended to leave the Mad King to Chrom.

The watch tower had proven to be an excellent vantage point from which to view the larger picture, but I found myself wanting to get closer to observe this final conflict. I don't know whether it was a desire to see justice done or morbid curiosity, but I wanted to see the Mad King's fall up close. To this end, I left the tower and made my way down the hill towards Gangrel's fortress. The field directly in front of the fort was lined with small clumps of trees, and it was in one of these that I hid myself.

I'd arrived not a minute too soon. A great roar went up from the fortress, and the remaining Plegian soldiers charged out through the gates to meet the Shepherds. Clearly Gangrel had been hiding more men inside – his force nearly doubled as more and more troops exited concealed rooms and joined the attack. It seemed that the Mad King was no longer interested in running away, for I spotted Gangrel himself in the midst of his men, rallying them onwards. He was probably determined to take as many Ylisseans with him as possible out of sheer spite.

The Shepherds, though caught off guard by the headlong rush, swiftly formed a defensive line in preparation for the onslaught. From this range I could make out the individuals in the crowd, and I was relieved to see both Chrom and Destin at the front, uninjured. But even I could see that this fight was not going to go as easily for them as the last one had.

Things only got worse when a brigade of Plegian wyvern riders rose from cover on the side of the field opposite me and swooped towards the Shepherds. The Ylissean Pegasus Knights took to the air and moved to head them off. I spotted my mother among them; I hoped she would be well, but her fate was out of my hands.

The main Plegian force smashed into the Shepherds, the sounds of battle rising like a macabre symphony. My father and his companions handled the initial rush well, but the sheer number of the Plegians allowed them to flank the Shepherds and surround them. The Ylissean line began to fracture as their fighters were forced to move further out to defend themselves. It quickly devolved into a chaotic brawl, all thoughts of organization and strategy discarded.

I searched through the mass of combatants, looking for my father. I couldn't find him in the confusion, but I did spot the familiar black-coated form of Destin; he had advanced far into the Plegian ranks, and was close enough to my side of the field that I could see him clearly. Plegian soldiers attacked him from all sides, but he nimbly evaded their strikes and countered with his sword and magic in equal measure. Within moments he had downed several of his assailants.

Another man charged him, leading with a wild overhand slash that Destin deflected away from him. To my surprise, it was Gangrel himself. He continued his offensive, savagely slashing at Destin with his jagged sword. Destin parried each strike in turn, swiftly turning the tables on the Mad King by launching into his own assault. Gangrel was pushed back a dozen steps before he disengaged. A gesture with his sword launched a bolt of magic at Destin, who intercepted it with a blast of lightning from his left hand.

Destin swiftly closed the gap between them, pressing Gangrel hard to prevent him from launching any more magical attacks. Gangrel, vicious and cunning though he might be, couldn't keep up with his opponent's swordsmanship in an honest fight. Destin's sword slipped past his guard and nicked the Mad King's shoulder before sweeping down and cutting deeply into his leg. Gangrel fell to one knee, at which point Destin's next blow knocked his sword right out of his hands and sent him to the ground.

I thought Destin would finish Gangrel off then and there, but as he drew back a pair of Plegian soldiers attacked him from both sides. He easily avoided them, stabbing one through the gut and slashing the other's throat open, but the distraction gave Gangrel time to recover. His hands scrabbled across the earth, picking up his sword in one hand and a fistful of dirt in the other. He snuck towards Destin, and when the Ylissean tactician turned back to face him he hurled the loose dirt into Destin's face.

Destin reeled back, trying to rub the earth out of his eyes. Gangrel seized the opportunity and lunged at him, knocking him onto his back. He might have been the more skilled fighter, but nearly blind and with his back to the ground there wasn't much Destin could do to fight back. Gangrel brutally knocked Destin's sword aside and raised his own, preparing for a finishing blow.

My heart stuttered slightly as I watched. Was this the moment of Destin's death? He was fated to fall at some point, and he was incapable of defending himself. My eyes slid off of the figures before me, desperate to see anything but the murder about to occur. In the utter chaos of the battle, none of Destin's allies had noticed his peril.

None except for Chrom. He dispatched the Plegian he was facing and turned to see Gangrel standing over his friend, sword raised. My father had lost many things to Gangrel's machinations, his sister Emmeryn most of all. Now he saw the Mad King ready to take the life of his best friend as well. But this time was different – this time he could do something about it. His rage, which I knew had been simmering since the beginning of this ugly war, erupted.

"GANGREL!" Chrom bellowed furiously. He took two steps and then launched into a flying leap that closed the distance between them in an instant. I gawked unashamedly from my hiding place. I would never have believed that such a jump was even possible.

The Mad King turned at the sound of his name, just in time to find Chrom bearing down on him with the force of an avalanche. He flung his sword up in a desperate attempt to defend himself. It wasn't enough; the sheer power behind Falchion was too much. Gangrel's sword shattered into fragments from Chrom's blow, and Falchion continued unimpeded into his skull. The tip of the sword slashed all the way down Gangrel's chest and stomach, emerging from between his legs and sinking into the dirt.

The sheer force of the contact threw Gangrel backwards. He rolled end over end and came to rest face down several feet from where he'd been standing. He did not rise again.

Mad King Gangrel was dead.

There was a minute of near dead silence as the remaining fighters, Plegians and Ylisseans both, stared at Gangrel's body. Every soldier on the field had heard Chrom's echoing shout and had turned instinctively to watch. Chrom walked over and offered his hand to Destin, who grasped it and was pulled to his feet. It seemed that this wasn't his day to die after all.

With Gangrel dead, the majority of the surviving Plegians simply dropped their weapons and surrendered. A handful, the most bloodthirsty and fanatical of the Mad King's followers, tried to keep fighting but were swiftly cut down. The wyvern riders had been driven from the sky by Sumia and the Pegasus Knights. This battle was over, and with it the entire war.

I watched as Chrom and Destin made their way closer to Gangrel's fort and were soon joined by Basilio and Flavia, who had arrived with their troops shortly after the battle's conclusion. Although victory was theirs, there were still many decisions that needed to be made concerning the Plegian prisoners and the administration of this now broken country. I certainly didn't envy them those decisions. Creating a peace that satisfied everyone with a defeated enemy wouldn't be easy.

A flutter of wings caught my eye as one of the Pegasus Knights flew down and landed beside Chrom and the others. A smile curved my lips as my mother dismounted and ran towards Chrom. The hard decisions would have to wait a while longer. Sumia had described this moment to me when I was still young – what little girl doesn't want to know how her parents fell in love? I'd never expected to witness it myself.

Destin and the Khans quietly excused themselves and walked back towards the Shepherds. And now that I thought about it, this was probably a good time for me to follow their example and leave. My parents deserved their moment alone.

It proved easier to sneak away than I had anticipated. Both the Shepherds and the Feroxi army were tired and a tad careless in their triumph, and slipping north into Regna Ferox didn't take me long. From there I sought out a quiet place in the wilderness where I could think. I settled down next to a clear river and paused to wash my face in the water.

We had reached the end of this particular chapter of history. The next two years would be peaceful ones which the nations of this continent would spend recovering from the war. There had been enough losses on all sides that no one would risk another conflict. It would not be until the invasion of the Valmese from the sea that war would come again. There would be no need for my intervention during these two years, and so I needed to decide what I was going to do during that time.

I still hoped to find the others who had gone through the Rift with me, but there was only so much I could do. As long as all of us were lying low, there was little chance that we would come into contact even if I searched relentlessly. If just one of us came into the open, it would provide a beacon for any others who had arrived to rally around. I had a feeling that was going to have to be me; my comrades, while reasonably skilled fighters and fine people, were definitely not leaders. Perhaps I wasn't either, but I would try nonetheless.

It was essential that I wait for the appropriate time to reveal myself. That time was not now. Thus, it came back down to waiting again. I disliked the prospect of simply lounging around for two years, but the simple truth was that there was little I could achieve in pursuit of my goal of changing the future at this time.

I would not sit idle, no matter what. If nothing else I would train myself further, honing my skills with the sword. I had discovered from Emmeryn's capture among other things that I needed to adjust my mindset to dealing with humans as enemies. Had I been better prepared, I might have been able to save her.

My journey was not over, rather it had just begun. Bigger threats to this world loomed on the horizon, and when they came, I would be ready.


	7. Chapter Six: The Broken Mask

**Chapter Six: The Broken Mask**

Moonlight spilled through the gently rustling branches of the trees surrounding me, bathing the clearing in a twilight glow. The soft breeze stirred my hair and caressed my face. All around me were the sounds of nature; crickets chirped, owls hooted, and wolves howled in the distance. It was peaceful, but still I felt restless. There was something foul in the air tonight.

I held Falchion before me in my right hand. I stared at the sacred sword unblinkingly, watching the light of the full moon play across its spotless steel length. This blade was the only weapon I'd ever used, given to me shortly after my father's death even though I'd been too young to wield it at the time. When Lon'qu had judged me old enough to begin learning the way of the sword, there had been no doubt about which sword I would use. It had seen me through hundreds of battles against Risen, the blade itself as much a symbol of hope as I had ever been. Soon it would be called into service once more to defend humanity.

Somewhere out there in the night was another Falchion, equal to my own. In the hands of my father, it was just as powerful a weapon for good as it was in mine. Now that I'd had more time to think it over, I admit that the idea of two versions of the same unique weapon seemed wrong somehow. Falchion should stand alone in its purity, as it always had. But I hadn't considered that before travelling through the Rift, and even if I had I would never have left it behind. It was part of me.

I sheathed Falchion and raised my left hand. In it were the severed halves of the butterfly mask I'd once worn. I wasn't sure why I'd held on to them all this time; even if the mask could be made whole again, my father and his comrades had already seen my face. It would be ridiculous to try to conceal it when they knew quite well that I wasn't a man. There was a certain amusing irony in having to hide your identity from your allies and not your enemies. The Brand would mean little to the Grimleal.

Perhaps, I reflected, I'd kept the mask in a desperate attempt to hold on to the concepts it had once represented to me. The idea that I had to let go of being Lucina and embrace doing whatever was necessary to prevent Grima's return had energized me then, but now it just made me feel sick. I was who I was, and to deny that would be wrong. I'd had to re-evaluate many of the convictions that had sent me through the Rift in the first place.

A month of attempting to indirectly interfere in a war, and two years in which to consider the outcome, had taught me that my original plan simply wasn't viable. If I really wanted to change the future then I needed to fully commit myself and fight with everything at my disposal. Even then, I couldn't do it alone. To continually fight by myself while trying to hide my very identity from others was futile. No, it was time that I let go of those notions. I dropped the severed halves of the mask into the grass at my feet and left the clearing without looking back.

War had come again, though only a select few on this continent were aware of it. An initial landing force of the mighty Valmese Empire had landed in Ferox Harbor just a few short days ago. They claimed dominance over these lands and the entire world in the name of Walhart the Conqueror, their emperor. The Valmese had little mercy for anyone that was not a groveling subject, and a number of innocent citizens of the port had been killed or maimed by the invaders.

The Shepherds, warned ahead of time by Virion and summoned into action by Flavia and Basilio, had reacted to such abuse with deadly force. Although the Valmese cavalry were said to be the best on either side of the sea, the first invasion force had been lured into a trap using the alleys of Port Ferox. I hadn't watched the battle myself, but I had heard of it from curious onlookers. Even trained horses didn't take well to being trapped in tight spaces and surrounded by burning buildings. The Valmese had been annihilated to a man.

But Chrom and Destin would be well aware that the battle had been but a prelude to what was to come. What they had faced was merely a scouting force. The real invasion was still on its way, and if the full might of the Valmese army landed there would be little chance of stopping them. Neither Ylisse nor Regna Ferox had warships capable of standing up to the Valmese at sea, but Plegia did. Even if they'd been at peace for two years, I doubt anyone was happy about the idea of asking them for aid – but what other choice did they have?

So it was that the Shepherds had journeyed to Carrion Island this very day to meet with the new king of Plegia. I'm sure they had their apprehensions, but from my limited knowledge of the Valm war in my time I was all but certain that they would obtain the ships they needed. However…

A frown formed on my face as I walked. I had spent some time learning all that I could about the new Plegian king. I didn't like what I had found. His name was Validar. He was a tall, snake-like, oily man who had taken great pains not to antagonize Plegia's former enemies. At the same time, he had made incredible progress in bringing all aspects of the nation under his thumb considering the short time he'd been king. Both he and his advisor Aversa, the former companion and tactician of Mad King Gangrel himself, were openly of the Grimleal. That made them the enemy.

I had heard the name Validar before in my own time, but all I knew of his actions was that he had been vaguely involved with Grima's return. It seemed this new timeline I had helped forge had a different place in mind for him. Well, so did I – an unmarked grave would do nicely.

That would have to wait, unfortunately. Plegia's warships were needed to combat the Valmese on equal terms, and Validar would be willing to let the Ylissean League have them. As much as I considered the Grimleal and their master to be the greater danger to the world, changing history in such a way that Walhart might end up victorious wasn't a very good prospect. Killing him now might not accomplish anything; there were plenty of insane Grimleal priests who could fulfill his role, so he was hardly unique.

As I neared the valley in which the Shepherds had made camp for the night upon their return to the mainland, the scent of foulness pervaded the air once more. I was all but certain that there were Risen in the area, and likely a sizable force of them. The enemy had already demonstrated their ability to control the undead, and Validar attempting to kill Chrom and his companions immediately after striking a deal with them seemed perfectly in character. But unless Destin had changed a great deal in two years, I rather doubted that the Shepherds would be caught unprepared.

I'd caught myself thinking of the mysterious tactician too often for my own comfort. It wasn't anything deliberate, but when I let my mind wander it tended to dwell on him. Him knocking me out of the way of an assassin's blade the night of the foiled attempt on the Exalt's life; him forcibly dragging Chrom out of certain death after Emmeryn's fall; the way he'd humiliated Gangrel in single combat before fate had conspired to grant Chrom the chance for vengeance. Yes, I'd revisited those moments more than I probably should have.

Unpleasant thoughts had cropped up as well, and one in particular was like a festering sore on my mind. My father had been killed by a close friend in my future, and in the present he had no friends closer than Destin. What if the reason I had never met Destin in my time was because he was the one who had betrayed Chrom to his death?

Yet the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. My father and Destin were as close as brothers – so why would Destin betray him? What could possibly go so wrong between them that it would end in Chrom's death? It seemed inconceivable unless everything Destin had done so far in this time was merely an act designed to catch my father off guard at the proper moment, and I rather doubted that. The look of helplessness I had seen in his eyes my first night in this timeline had been genuine.

All the same, I couldn't dismiss the notion entirely. I hated to doubt him, but my knowledge of the future singled him out as the most likely suspect.

A sudden gut instinct that told me to duck saved me. The familiar sound of an arrow in flight swished where I'd been standing as I rolled forward and came to my feet with Falchion drawn. A Risen swordsman charged out of the darkness at me with a sweeping slash aimed at my head. I deflected it to one side with my own blade and followed up with a two-handed thrust into his chest. Even as he began to dissolve I pivoted and placed his body where I had just been – and a heavy steel axe thudded into him from the other side. No one ever said Risen were team players.

I withdrew Falchion and rushed the second undead warrior, knowing that there was an archer out there readying a second shot. I was much more exposed than I would have liked, so it would be best to get rid of the axe wielder quickly. He clumsily parried my first strike, but I twisted into a second slash that slid over his weapon and decapitated him. I dropped to the ground along with his head and another arrow swished over me.

I'd gotten a good enough look at that one to see where it had come from. I surged to my feet and into the darkness behind a stand of trees. The Risen archer was still nocking a third arrow when I caught him with an overhand slash. He joined the other two as naught but purple dust on the wind.

A moment to catch my breath and think didn't bring any more attackers. I was certain that those weren't the only Risen here, and that I wasn't their target. If there was a main force of the undead, it was probably attacking the Shepherds' camp. No doubt they were capable of handling themselves, but tonight I wouldn't simply observe. The time for that had passed.

Rallying cries and the sounds of battle began rising from just over the next ridge. I paused at the top to take stock of the situation, though my vision was limited in the darkness. It seemed the Risen had already surrounded the valley. Undead archers, many of them wielding larger and more powerful longbows, maintained a barrage of arrows aimed towards the valley floor. Assuming the Shepherds were still down there, it wasn't a good position for them.

One of the longbow archers was standing only a few feet below the ridge I was standing on, oblivious to my presence. A quick leap and a thrust of Falchion brought him down, but also alerted the other Risen. I darted back into the cover of the forest with several of them in hot pursuit. Once I was out of the range of the archers, I turned on them and quickly dispatched them. These Risen employed more complicated tactics than they'd ever used in my time, but they weren't any stronger individually. I'd improved my skill in two years' time, and they had remained the same.

I stalked across the sides of the battlefield, striking like lightning any time I found a clump of isolated Risen before retreating to the safety of the trees. I couldn't tell exactly how things were going, but it was fairly clear that the ambush had turned. The Shepherds had extricated themselves from the valley, and were now advancing up either side of the cliff. Now that they had control of the fight, the Risen had little chance. It was simply a matter of hunting them down.

At the other end of the valley, I found that a narrow stone walkway had been built across it. A massive figure stood atop it; the undead warrior must have been eight feet tall, and had a two-handed axe to match. Risen didn't truly have leaders, but I had found that groups of them were often centered on one unusually powerful fighter. It was similar in a way to warrior societies like that of Regna Ferox. This had to be the 'chief' of this group.

I debated trying to take him out myself, but before I came to any decision voices reached me from down the path. I hid behind a tree, and moments later Chrom and Destin walked past me to where the giant Risen was waiting. They both had their swords drawn and looked a tad rumpled, if not wounded, though I could only see their backs from where I was standing. Destin whistled softly at the sight of the chief.

"I'd say that's our man right there," he said to Chrom.

"The leader, huh? If we take him out then it'll be easy to mop up the rest."

"I would have preferred Validar himself, but I suppose this fellow will do. There's only room on that walkway for one of us. Flip for it?" At Chrom's grunt of assent he produced a gold coin from his coat and tossed it into the air before snatching it on its way back down. "Crown. All yours."

My father strode onto the stone walkway, Falchion held at the ready. The ensuing duel between him and the Risen chief was more a contest of will and brute strength than anything. They continually clashed their weapons against each other as if trying to break their opponent down through sheer determination. Chrom landed several hits on the Risen while taking none himself, but the giant was still standing.

A powerful strike from the Risen knocked Chrom off balance, but as he raised his axe to take advantage a strong gust of wind materialized in front of him and knocked him backwards. Further, the Risen chief's axe slipped out of his hands and off the walkway. He still tried to hammer Chrom with his powerful fists, but without a weapon it wasn't long before my father managed to impale him with Falchion. The Risen seemed to be trying to raise his hand for one more punch, but he dissolved midway.

Chrom walked back to where Destin was waiting without looking back. "Nice shot," he said.

"Didn't fancy explaining to Sumia why you came back without a head," Destin replied sarcastically. They both began walking back down the path that would lead them to their companions.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were afraid of my wife," Chrom said.

"We're talking about a woman who decked you full in the face because you were acting a little depressed."

"Point taken."

Silence reigned in the night, and I believed that the danger had ended. But I still felt restless. It was as though I could sense another presence out there in the darkness, though a swift examination of the moonlit forest revealed nothing. Destin and my father passed my hiding place and were a few steps down the hill when the sense of wrongness peaked. I felt exactly the same as I had in the instant before an assassin had rushed Chrom the night of the attempt on Emmeryn's life. But I couldn't find even a slight hint that would reveal an enemy…

…because there wasn't one. A dark-clothed Risen materialized from thin air behind Chrom. I lunged forward the moment I realized what was happening, but the assassin was so much closer than I was.

"Father!" I shouted unthinkingly, desperate to warn him of the danger.

Chrom turned at the sound of my voice to find a dagger descending on him. He shifted barely enough so that it was the assassin's arm that collided with his shoulder rather than the knife. The force still knocked him back, open for a second strike.

I arrived then, launching into a wide slash that curved around the assassin's body and severed the hand holding his dagger. The Risen drew a second one and began a thrust at Chrom, but I took that hand off as well. There was little the assassin could do to prevent my third swing, which passed through his chest and dissolved him. Panting slightly, I returned Falchion to its sheath and looked up as Chrom got to his feet.

"I do believe she's getting good at this, Chrom," Destin remarked, removing the hand he'd placed on the hilt of his sword.

The moonlight wasn't much to see by, but it was enough to make out the details of the two men's faces. Chrom looked pretty much the same as he had during the war, but Destin was just a little different than he had been two years ago. His features had matured, refined slightly. There was no longer any doubt in his eyes; it seemed that he had found his place in life. Whatever it was, I couldn't help but stare for a moment.

"You just called me 'father'," Chrom said slowly.

It took me a moment to tear my gaze back to him and remember that I'd yelled that. Well, I'd already decided that the masquerade was done anyways, and this was as good a moment as any.

"Umm… could we speak… privately?" I asked.

"I think that would be for the best," Chrom said. He turned and nodded to Destin, who threw off a lazy salute and then took up a sentry position. My father and I walked a short ways into the dark forest, into a small clearing in which the moonlight pooled.

"Now then…" I began. "This… should help explain things, I think." I walked to one side and then turned so that my left eye was clearly visible to him.

He took one look at it and paled slightly. "That's the Brand of the Exalt," he breathed. Another slight shock seemed to run through him. "Lucina…"

A similar shock ran through me. I had no memory of my father ever calling me by my name before – I'd been too young. That he did so now… I fought back tears. I needed to be strong, as always. My father needed my support, not my problems.

Chrom's gaze drifted down to the hilt of Falchion protruding from my scabbard. "You deserved better from me than one sword and a world full of troubles," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I'm sorry." His voice was thick with emotion.

I could feel myself slipping as well. I had lived my life putting up a strong front for others, never allowing even my friends to see just how much I really felt. But in the face of my father's quiet apology, a crack appeared in that front. I knew somehow that I could trust him with anything, and that I didn't have to pretend I wasn't hurting inside for his benefit. The thought that I could allow myself to really feel for just a moment and relieve even a little of the sorrow I'd locked away inside brought the tears that trickled out of my eyes.

My father reached up with one hand and gently brushed my tears away. It was too much for me; my walls broke and emotion overtook me completely.

"Father!" I cried happily as I threw my arms around him. He gently embraced me, guiding my face into his shoulder. I let myself cry awhile longer, content to be held.

This was what I had been missing for so long without ever realizing it. My memories of Chrom holding me when I was a baby were so hazy they really weren't anything more than feelings, but I had known those feelings. In the years since then, my life had taken so many twists that I had needed just this – someone to hold onto, someone who couldn't be swept away by the sheer depth of my despair.

I didn't let everything go. There was far too much, and crying it all out would've taken me the rest of the night. But this was enough.

"Better?" Chrom asked softly when I had finished crying. I turned my face and nodded silently. He sighed.

"I know you have a lot more than that to get off your chest, but I think we should find Sumia first. If what you have to tell me is half as bad as I think it's going to be, it's best that you only have to explain it once."

I blinked at that and then nodded again. He was entirely correct. Telling the whole story of how my future had come to be was going to be hard enough for me to do once, and my mother did deserve to know. Since I was joining the Shepherds properly, there was no hiding who or what I was.

We broke our hug and then headed back up to the path. Destin was still standing there surveying the valley, whistling a cheery tune to himself. He turned slightly at our approach.

"Good timing," he said. "If we were out much longer I think they'd have come looking for us, orders or no. I assume we're heading back?"

"Yeah," Chrom replied. "But I don't think we're getting much sleep tonight. We… need to talk. Me, you, Sumia, and… her."

Destin shrugged carelessly. "I can catch up on my rest during the journey back to Port Ferox. This must be important, and I think I can already guess some of what's going to come out. I hope Sumia doesn't take it too badly."

I stirred a little at that. Did he already know who I was and how I'd come here? I suppose he'd heard me call Chrom father as well, and it wouldn't be too hard to put the pieces together. Still, it was awfully fast for him to have guessed all of that.

The first camp the Shepherds had pitched tonight had been located on the valley floor before it had been ruined by the Risen attack. A second one had since been erected at the open end of the valley, though it was a rather makeshift affair. They weren't taking any chances in case there were more Risen. With the number of sentries out, it seemed like we weren't the only ones who wouldn't be getting much sleep.

Destin jogged down to the camp ahead of my father and I. He gave a few terse orders to the handful of Shepherds who gathered around him. They quickly dispersed and found others who were on guard to pass the word.

"All quiet here, it seems," the tactician said when we walked up behind him. "They threw everything into the first assault. We only have one tent large enough for four of us that survived the attack in one piece; it's already set up and presently empty. Sumia should be joining us shortly."

"Efficient as ever," Chrom remarked. "Let's go, then."

We filed into the wide beige tent tiredly, settling ourselves down beside the lit brazier in the center of the floor. I guess I should have realized that keeping myself alert and fighting Risen throughout the night with little rest would exhaust me, but I couldn't afford to doze off just yet.

My mother entered a minute or two after we did. Her eyes went first to Chrom, reassuring herself that he was unhurt. Then they settled on me. She started intently at me, as though she was looking for something.

Chrom cleared his throat. "Sumia," he said. "This is Lucina."

"Lucina? But…" I tilted my head slightly so that my Brand was visible to Sumia, and she gasped. "Y-you really are Lucina! But how?"

"I… came here from another time," I said carefully. "From a ruined future devoid of hope. Yes, I'm the same daughter that's waiting for you back in Ylisse. I came back to this time with the help of Naga, hoping to change history."

"Oh my…" Sumia murmured. "Lucina… my daughter…" Words seemed to fail her then. Instead, she stumbled forward and pulled me into a tight embrace. I hugged her back without hesitation. I had more than just vague memories of my mother, but I still missed her fiercely.

We pulled apart after a long moment. Sumia sniffed, wiping tears away from her eyes. I had managed to regain enough control over myself not to cry, though somehow I felt as though I should.

With all four of us settled on the floor, I slowly began to explain what I knew of the path that had led to this world's destruction. I didn't know everything, of course, but I had heard enough from surviving witnesses to know what the key events were. The others listened in silence for the most part, only making sounds of dismay at some of the worst parts of the tale. My story dragged long into the deep hours of the night, my voice going nearly hoarse by the end with the strain of talking – and the pain of remembering all that had been lost.

Though I revisited memories filled with despair, in my mind a shining ray of hope remained steadfast in its brilliance. My faith had been dimming of late, but in the wake of this night's events I found it stronger than ever. I took heart from the raw sympathy and concern painted on the faces of my parents and Destin. To know that there were others at my side meant more than I could express.

I had been struggling by myself for too long. Everyone needed support in their times of darkness, and my support was right here in the company of the Shepherds. My memories of a world of death could haunt me all they liked, and I would continue forward.

I was no longer alone, and that was all that mattered.


	8. Chapter Seven: Red Horizon

**Chapter Seven: Red Horizon**

Although we began the day's march late due to the previous night's battle, Port Ferox was only a few hours' journey up the coastline. We would arrive sometime in the late afternoon and still have plenty of time to rest and prepare ourselves for what was to come. Because Basilio and Flavia were busy mustering the Feroxi army for war with the Valmese, they already had a sizable camp set up just outside the harbor, so we wouldn't need to pitch our own once we arrived.

My father had been skeptical that Validar would send the ships he'd promised the Ylissean League after sending the Risen to attack us, yet Destin seemed strangely certain that they'd come. As we made our way towards Port Ferox, our outriders on the coastal side began to catch glimpses of the Plegian warships on their way north. Validar had promised the ships and nothing more, claiming that his nation's manpower was too exhausted from the war to spare us any. No doubt the warships were running with skeleton crews.

It looked to me as though Validar would be an issue for another day. I just hoped that we wouldn't regret allowing him time to cement his rule.

The Shepherds rubbed their eyes and yawned frequently on the road, their peaceful slumber a victim of the Risen attack. True to his word, Destin borrowed a horse from someone and let it bear him north as he slept in the saddle. It amused me; I'd heard stories of people sleeping on horseback before, but I'd never actually seen it. Yet the clamor of the army marching north and the shining midday sun clearly had little effect on his nap.

I might have decided to join my father and his companions properly, but I hadn't really thought over all the potential consequences of such an act. Perhaps I'd believed that my identity would be kept a secret by a select few, but I should've known that Chrom didn't work that way; not that it could've been done anyways, since everyone knew that Lucina was the name of Chrom's daughter.

What this meant for me was that I explained a shortened version of the events that had led me here half a dozen times to different audiences on the march north. Initially they were all merely curious to learn about the mysterious swordswoman who they'd seen several times already, but learning that I was Chrom's daughter from a ruined future inspired sympathy and a desire to help. It had been made clear that I already had the trust of the two most important people in the Shepherds, so no one openly doubted my tale.

It was a bit tiresome, but I kept my explanations brief. It was generally accepted that the ramifications of the whole story and the prevention of this catastrophe would fall on the capable shoulders of Chrom and Destin as always, and they did not push further.

I spent the remainder of our time travelling through the rolling hills of western Regna Ferox considering the task ahead. I might have come from the future, but my knowledge of the Valmese war was painfully limited. The Valmese weren't on Grima's side, and had played no part in his return to our world. Consequently, I hadn't bothered to learn much about them. I couldn't help but wish that I'd listened more closely to stories of the war, but it was too late for that now.

Truthfully, I didn't even know what their motivations were. Walhart the Conqueror and his men spearheaded a campaign of world domination, and I had no idea why. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it was nothing more than arrogance and greed, but somehow I got the feeling that there was something more to it than that.

Whatever the reason, our goals were irreconcilable. The peoples of our continent desired peace and freedom, while Walhart sought to rule every living being. The clash was inevitable, and so my thoughts turned to the bloody battles sure to come. The bulk of the Valmese invasion fleet was sailing towards us even now. Defeating this fleet would set them back, but it wouldn't end the war. The Valmese Empire had the resources and manpower to build new fleets if this one were destroyed, though it would take them time.

I did know that the Valm campaign had been fast and brutal considering the size of the armies involved. The war had been concluded in less than a month from start to finish, despite the soldiers of two entire continents being committed. The sheer speed was most likely part of a strategy from our side; the Valmese had solid control over their empire, while the Ylissean League still needed to watch its back for Plegia. Walhart had no compunctions about drafting every able bodied man and throwing them into the fighting, while we would have no such reserves. It only made sense from our perspective to bring the war to a rapid end by forcing a decisive contest and bringing down Walhart. Without him, the Valmese would collapse.

The main army camp established just outside of Port Ferox proved quite a sight. Tents stretched over the hills into the distance as far as I could see. Ylisseans, Feroxi, and even a modest number of volunteer Plegians swarmed throughout the camp. With all the hustle and bustle, it made me think of a great city made of nothing but plain canvas tents.

Chrom had decided that he would talk with the Khans and brief them on what had happened on the journey. A strategy meeting would be held later that night to decide how best to engage the Valmese fleet, but that wasn't for a few hours yet. The rest of us were free to relax and go about our business. Several Feroxi soldiers appeared to escort our weary company to the section of the camp set aside for the Shepherds. It was no different than any other, save for the pennants marked with the crest of Ylisse.

I picked out a tent quickly, since they were all the same. It wasn't much, but I had slept in worse in my own time. The last two years had spoiled me in that regard; without pursuing hordes of Risen or the need to conceal myself, I'd been able to sleep in inns most nights. The costs added up, but there were always people willing to pay for the removal of a bandit group or a force of Risen nearby.

I set my small packs and blankets down and simply rested for the next hour or so. It wasn't enough to make up for the sleep I'd missed the previous night, but it was a sufficient refresher that I no longer felt hazy. I intended to be at the meeting later, and I'd need my wits about me.

That was still a few hours away. In the meantime, I decided to assuage my curiosity. Most of the people in this camp I knew well enough from my own time that I could predict or at least understand their actions. Even though I hadn't got to know my father well at all before his death, he was a solid and straightforward person. He wasn't hard to anticipate.

There was only one real enigma here: Destin. I didn't know him at all, and each time I thought I had him figured out he did something completely unexpected. Knowing as I did that he could be one of the key pieces of the puzzle, it was important that I understand him. On the surface, it seemed almost like he didn't even have a personality; he simply went along with whatever was happening, that amused grin permanently plastered on his face. His own skills were among the top of the Shepherds who were themselves a fairly elite unit, yet he didn't seek to advance himself – he seemed content no matter what situation life handed him.

So who was he really? I didn't know, but I was certain that I could find out.

The Ylissean section of the camp was mostly quiet when I emerged from my tent. I supposed that most of the Shepherds were taking the opportunity to catch up on their rest. No doubt some of them would sleep the rest of the day given the chance.

It wasn't hard to find Destin's tent – it was right next to Chrom's, and the Ylissean pennant on it was marked with a unique sign. I don't know what it was supposed to mean, but it made sense that everyone would be able to find the army's tactician easily if trouble arose.

I approached the entrance, pausing with one hand on the tiny bell tied to a string that hung from the flap. What if he was asleep? I didn't want to wake him up just to talk. But then I remembered that he'd slept the entire journey north, so that had to have been enough for him. Reassured, I pulled the bell.

"One moment," Destin's voice said from inside the tent. There was a soft scraping noise followed by the tent flap being pulled back. The black haired tactician stuck his head out and looked at me. "Ah, Lucina."

"I was hoping to talk to you, if I'm not interrupting anything," I said, suddenly feeling hesitant.

"Nothing I can't take care of later," he said cheerfully. "Please, come in."

I did so, taking in the interior of his tent in one quick sweep. His sleeping blankets lay carelessly in one corner, while the other side of the tent was taken up by a small wooden desk and chair. Several books were stacked on the desk, with one open where he had obviously been reading it before I had arrived. An inkwell and quill stood at its side. I wondered if the furniture had been provided by the Feroxi – surely we hadn't been carrying it with us?

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Destin asked, settling himself on the floor near his blankets.

"The future. Rather, the future I came from." I took a deep breath, sitting down opposite him. "I know I've told my tale before, but I want you more than anyone to understand its import. Even to my father I spoke only of events and their repercussions, not what it really means for us."

"I see," Destin said. "Please, continue."

"In my future, almost no corner of our world is safe for humans. Risen swarm across the land as an unstoppable horde. The people cower in terror, helpless before the onslaught. And always, Grima fills the sky with his ebony form to remind us that we cannot win, that we only live because he allows it."

"A fevered nightmare come true. I can scarcely imagine it."

"It is a hell," I said solemnly. It hurt slightly to think of my own world as such, but it was the truth. "The worst part… is the hopelessness. Knowing that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many Risen you destroy or how many people you save, it's all going to come to nothing. Even if we achieved a miracle and eradicated the Risen, Grima would still be waiting for us. He cannot be destroyed, and so our torment is endless. We live our lives knowing that everything we do… is worthless." That was a thought I'd been holding in the back of my mind for a long time, and not one I'd ever dared to share with anyone else. It was just too depressing to say out loud.

"This is why we cannot – we _must_ not – lose this war. Do you understand? My father's role is integral, but I think that you more than anyone else have the ability to avert the catastrophe to come."

"I will do everything in my power to help you and Chrom, Lucina," Destin said. "I swear it. If my sword or my tactics or my very presence can change things, then they _will_."

I exhaled slowly. "That is what I wanted to hear," I said. "Thank you, Destin. It reassures me that there are people besides me who know what we're fighting for, and why we cannot fail no matter what the cost."

"I may not fully understand the horrible nature of your future, but I have already heard enough about it from you that I know it needs to be prevented. I promise you'll always have my support in that regard. Now, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Well… do you know where you got that coat?"

"What, this old thing?" Destin asked, looking down at the coat in question with surprise. "Well, no. I was wearing it when Chrom found me. I assume you've already heard that story?" At my nod, he sighed softly. "I don't remember anything from before then. I don't even know why I keep wearing it, except that it's comfortable. Why do you ask?"

"There's a mysterious figure in my future that people call the High Priest of the Grimleal. I've heard he's directly connected to Grima himself. I've never seen him personally, but I've talked to people who have… and they all described to me the hooded coat he wears. It's exactly the same as this one."

I don't know what response I had expected to get from him, but his sudden blanching was a bit beyond what I had imagined. His mouth opened and closed silently, as though he was trying to form a thought but couldn't quite manage it. Finally, he said "So one of our enemies wears this exact same coat?"

"There are few who would know this, but all those strange sigils and such etched around it are all Grimleal symbols," I said. "Particularly the circles drawn on the sleeves – they represent the six eyes of Grima, which I have seen for myself."

"I… didn't know," he managed, shaking his head slightly. "To think I've been wearing the uniform of our enemy the whole time and I didn't even know it. Very troubling." Abruptly, he stood up. "I'm sorry to walk out in the middle of a conversation, but I have some errands that need to be done before the meeting tonight. I'll be more than happy to talk later, okay?" I gave a slightly confused nod, which he replied to with a disarming smile before hurrying out of the tent.

Truthfully, there wasn't anything else that I'd really wanted to talk to Destin about, yet I still felt a little disappointed. I believed him when he said that he'd do anything to help my father and I, just as his claim not to know the origin of his favored coat seemed genuine. Perhaps my suspicions were unfounded, but it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on him. It was possible that something would happen later on that would shake his commitment, though I still had no idea how the situation could get so bad that he'd actually murder Chrom.

Left alone in his tent with nothing else to do, I paused to examine the furniture I'd been curious about earlier. The frames were definitely solid wood, though they seemed lighter than I would have expected. Upon closer inspection, a series of concealed hinges allowed both the desk and the chair to fold in on themselves and become a smaller, more manageable package. These would be easy to carry along, even while on the march. I found the design quite intriguing; I wondered if this was something Destin had invented himself, or had appropriated from elsewhere.

The book he'd left open on the desk caught my eye. It was a thick, heavy tome with a plain leather cover. Lines of tightly packed script filled the open pages, with more writing in a different hand lining the sides. I didn't fully understand all the words, but it seemed to be some kind of treatise on military strategy. The writing around the side appeared to be Destin's own – annotations left on the content of the book.

Well, I supposed it was only natural that he'd have these kinds of books. He had to have learned his impressive skill at tactics somewhere. It was interesting that his own notes often disagreed with the original writer of the book. But if he didn't think the writer's advice was worthwhile, why would he bother reading it?

Perhaps that was something I could ask him about the next time we spoke. I certainly wasn't a general, but it would be interesting to learn even a little about strategy from Destin. If there was a tactical mind equal to his on this side of the sea, I hadn't heard of him or her.

Satisfied, I left the tent to find that I'd spent more time inside than I'd thought. The sun was setting, bathing the entire camp in a lurid orange glow. By my estimation, it wouldn't be long before the meeting was supposed to convene. I still had enough time to find some dinner and make my way over to the Khans' main tent, though.

In a camp this vast, any eating arrangement more formal than communal fires and cook pots would be difficult to organize. Every clump of a dozen or more tents seemed to be preparing their own meal, making the air more than a little smoky. I sat down with a brigade of Feroxi soldiers who were happy to let me have some of the stew they'd made. Though the men and women in the camp might have been from three disparate nations, in purpose we were united. I reflected on this idea briefly as I ate.

Once I'd finished, I thanked the men for the meal and set off towards the command tent. An exceptionally tall banner made it easily visible from anywhere in the camp. I passed numerous groups similar to the one I'd just left, sitting and eating while talking about nothing important. When I finally arrived at the large, crimson hued tent, the guards on duty let me enter without a fuss. It seems they'd already had instructions from my father and the Khans as to who was attending.

Those three principals were already inside, looking over an array of maps and lists spread out across the long wooden table that dominated the center of the tent. Frederick was there as well, standing behind Chrom's shoulder and examining a length of parchment with his trademark thoughtful frown. Destin, however, was not.

I approached the table slowly, still feeling slightly hesitant. Chrom had indicated that I would be welcome at the meeting, but I was still adjusting to being part of the group. I couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. Flavia looked up from a report and gave me a warm nod, which hastened my steps. I had just reached the side of the table opposite my father when the tent flap opened again.

"Sorry if I'm late," Destin said. "There were a few things I needed to take care of."

All eyes in the tent turned to the tactician as he strode inside. I blinked in surprise. He had changed.

The black coat he'd always worn that we had talked about just a short time ago was gone. In its place he wore a coat of a similar style and length, but it was a deep, dark blue. Instead of the sinister purple Grimleal symbols that had dotted his old one, this one had gold thread that laced along the edge and the sleeves in simple, clean lines. As he walked calmly past Chrom, I saw that a crest of actual gold had been set into the back where the hood had been. It shined brilliantly in the bright torchlight.

No one could have failed to notice the difference, yet no comments were made. They all settled in to begin the meeting as though it was of no import; and to them it might well have been, but I felt differently.

Had he changed because of what I'd said? It was understandable that he wouldn't want to keep wearing a garment that marked him as one of our enemies once he'd learned what it meant, but it seemed a sudden thing to do. That must be what he'd gone out for earlier when he'd left the tent. Or perhaps he had another reason to change his usual style, and my own words hadn't meant anything?

I stopped that train of thought there. I was putting far too much consideration into a minor thing. It was a coat, not some grand symbol of allegiance. The others were giving it no regard, and nor should I.

Still… I couldn't help but feel a little touched by the thought that he'd gotten rid of his trademark garment just because of me.

"…We have a report from the non-combat ships we sent out looking for signs of the Valmese fleet before you left," Flavia was saying, passing the document in question across the table to Destin. I gave a small start; the conversation had proceeded while I'd still been lost in thought.

"They'll make landfall in approximately four days at their current speed. We have until then to intercept them."

"I'd rather not leave it that late," Destin said, examining the scout report. "Better we face them early so that we have room for contingencies. Was there anything else?"

"They left it off the report because it wasn't hard fact," Flavia replied, "But they estimated that the Valmese fleet numbers around eight hundred ships. Also, every one of their warships appears to be packed stem to stern. If they didn't bring any more soldiers than this for the invasion, it wasn't for lack of trying."

"So they have even more ships than we do," Destin mused. "And all of them full… that's troubling."

"What are your thoughts, strategy-wise?" Chrom asked.

Destin raised one hand and rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. "The Valmese are experienced in naval battles, while we are not. Plegia might have loaned us their ships and barely enough men to sail them, but that's all. We don't have the skill or sufficient warships to face them in a straight naval encounter. Boarding them and engaging their soldiers directly would offset that, but if the report of their numbers is accurate then it's still a bad prospect."

"Further, remember that this is only the first stage of the campaign. If we're to win the war, we still need to have enough men and ships left over from this battle to invade the Valmese mainland. I doubt we'll have that if we fight them on even terms."

I traced one finger idly over the edge of the map that took up most of the table. Destin explaining the situation highlighted just how much of a disadvantage we were at. They had more men than our entire army in just this invasion force, and there were more Valmese armies waiting in their homeland. They had better equipment in the form of warships, and were quite used to using them. How were we supposed to overcome such a gap? If only I'd asked more questions, I could have remembered how it was done in my time…

"So if we can't fight them straight out, what do we do then?" Basilio demanded.

"We have to find another way… what else do we have? Are there any other resources we're not considering?"

"Well actually…" Flavia paused to lift another document from the heap and pass it to Destin. "The Plegians sent supplies along with the ships. Most of it is ordinary stuff or junk we have no use for. But I checked most of it out myself and the numbers there are accurate."

Destin scanned the list quickly, reading each item out loud as though thinking to himself. "…twelve hundred clay pots containing oil," he finished, and then blinked slightly. "Well, that's something."

"Oil?" Basilio said, leaning forward. "What, do you think we should try to launch a fire attack on them?"

"How would we facilitate something like that?" Frederick asked. "We'd have to board their ships to pour the oil on them, then somehow light them on fire and withdraw. I think we'd be more likely to set ourselves aflame than the Valmese."

Destin's head snapped up at that last. I could practically see the plans flashing through his eyes. Chrom had clearly seen it as well, as he immediately turned to his friend.

"I can see that you have a strategy, Destin," Chrom said quietly. "Just tell us what we need to do to make it work."

"To start, we'll need to sacrifice a few ships as a decoy so that we can get an elite strike force onto their flagship. We'll need to take out the Valmese commander if this is going to work properly." Destin turned to face my father. "I think that'll have to be us, Chrom."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he replied. "So we break the enemy's chain of command, induce a little confusion. What then?"

"We'll send up a signal once we've finished and are in a position to extricate ourselves from the rest of the Valmese fleet. Then…"

"That's when we'll strike?" Basilio asked eagerly. "We dump the oil on them and light their ships on fire?"

"No, that's when we light _our _ships on fire," Destin corrected.

There was dead silence in the tent for a full minute as everyone present gawked at the raven haired tactician. For his part, he simply stared at the map as though it held the answers he was looking for.

"Err… not that I'm challenging this army's appointed strategist, but how exactly is lighting ourselves on fire going to help?" Basilio demanded.

"As Frederick noted, it's simply not viable for us to board them and try to set fires before retreating. But our own ships pose no such problems." Destin looked up and swept his gaze across each person at the table. "Our ships will be lined up in pairs, making it look like we intend to engage them in a direct naval battle. Once the signal goes up, we'll begin sailing at the Valmese fleet. And when we've gotten close enough, the crew of every second ship will pour oil onto their own decks and light them afire before jumping to the spare."

"Remember that even with every soldier in this army aboard, our holds are only half full. We can lose half of our fleet and still have enough ships left to transport our entire army. The same cannot be said for the Valmese. Without a commander to make a clear decision, they won't be able to react to something like this. They'll never expect it. Once the fire starts spreading they'll have to abandon thoughts of battle and simply try to survive."

"But we'll still be losing half of our ships," Flavia pointed out reasonably. "If enough Valmese warships manage to escape, we'll still be at a disadvantage. Just how much of their fleet do you think we'll be able to take out with this… plan?"

"That depends on how quickly their individual captains react… and the fortune of the Gods," Destin said, flashing a slight smile. "At the very least, half of their fleet will go down in flames. If we get lucky, we might just take out every ship they've got."

"Minimum half…" Chrom shook his head. "And they'll have lost four hundred ships' worth of men, while we sacrifice only ships. It's risky, but this is what we need to even things out."

"The Plegians might not appreciate us using their ships as flaming missiles," Frederick said. "Not that they can do anything about it, but…"

"Plegia contributed those ships to our cause, to do with as we see fit," Destin cut in. Suddenly he was not smiling. "If _King_ Validar has a problem with how I choose to utilize them, he can take it up with me once Walhart isn't breathing down our necks. I admit I'll have a few things to discuss with him at that time as well."

"At the point of a sword, no doubt," Chrom said dryly. "Well, I don't deny you've the right of it. In the meantime, I think this is more or less decided. Unless anyone has any further objections…?"

Basilio and Flavia both shook their heads. Proud and stubborn rulers they might be, but they were both well aware that Destin knew strategy on an instinctive level far greater than they ever would. It was only natural that they provide counterarguments, but when it came down to it they would do as he said.

"We'll still have all of tomorrow to drill the crews in preparation for the plan," Destin said. "It's best we set sail the morning after, so that we can maneuver and intercept the Valmese at an advantageous time. I think that's all that needs to be said for now."

We emerged from the meeting to find that it was fully dark, and only an array of torches set at regular intervals gave us enough light to see where we were going. Basilio and Flavia left to find their own tents while the rest of us headed back to the Shepherds' section of the camp. The others were uncharacteristically silent on the walk back.

I said nothing myself, thinking of what had just passed. Really, I had contributed nothing to the meeting. Chrom had made sure I'd be able to attend, and I had just sat there like a lump while all the decisions were made. It wasn't a pleasant realization. But I wasn't a leader like Chrom or the Khans, neither was I a strategist like Destin. My area of expertise was the future I'd come here from, which wasn't very useful considering how little I remembered about the Valmese war.

But I could change that. I wanted to earn the place I'd been given, and I would. I had time and determination. The next time I sat in on a meeting, I would truly be part of it. I would be part of this army.

The certainty of it pleased me.


	9. Chapter Eight: Firestorm

**Chapter Eight: Firestorm**

The ship rocked gently in the waves, a fluid rolling motion I was quite unused to. I had never been aboard any vessel larger than a river boat in my own time; Grima had taken particular issue with those attempting to flee him across the sea, and once the great sailing ships had all been destroyed no one had had the time or resources to build more.

It was a fairly calm day on the sea, or so I'd been told. That didn't make sitting in the hold trying to ignore the ship's constant motions any easier. I didn't get violently seasick like some of the others had, but I certainly wasn't comfortable. And even after this, we'd still be at sea for nearly a week before making landfall based on the scouts' estimates. I managed to restrain a moan. A week of this? Well, at least I knew what I wasn't meant to be in life: a sailor.

The hold was packed, with each member of the Shepherds claiming their own tiny section of the wooden hull to lean against. With the hatches closed to the midday sun, a small number of lit candles provided our only illumination. The faces of the men and woman around me were uniformly grim. Everyone dealt with the time before a battle differently – that was something Lon'qu had told me many years ago. Preparing yourself to take lives and perhaps lose your own was never easy.

Perhaps that was why my mind was dwelling on thoughts of the voyage to come: to avoid thinking of the imminent battle. The success of Destin's strategy wouldn't make it any better; indeed it would likely become worse. We had to defeat the Valmese for the sake of our people, but I knew in my heart that witnessing the aftermath wasn't going to be easy for any of us. I hoped that Destin wouldn't regret his plan once he saw what it meant to execute it.

I let my thoughts drift to happier things. The previous day had brought me an unexpected joy. One of my comrades from the future had joined the ranks of the Feroxi army hoping to find others close to the actin. Once she'd heard my name spoken it didn't take long for her to track me down.

Kjelle was the daughter of Sully and Stahl, the famed Crimson and Viridian Knights of Ylisse and the leaders of the Shepherds' cavalry. She was also the most stalwart woman I'd ever had the pleasure of knowing, and a true friend. I'd lost count of the number of times she'd stepped into a gap and rendered it impassable with her thick steel armor and sheer determination. I couldn't think of a warrior I'd rather have at my side.

Her arrival made me wonder about the others who'd gone through the rift alongside us. How many of them were wandering the world lost right now? I felt responsible for what happened to them; to travel into the past had been my suggestion. Beyond that, although they fought bravely to protect the people some of them were still just children. The horrific nature of the world we'd lived in had forced all of us to grow up too fast.

I thought of my sister, Cynthia, and my cousin, Lissa's son Owain. They were great people and fun to hang around with, but with Cynthia's overwhelming desire to be a hero and Owain's insistence that he already was a hero, I wondered how long they would last by themselves. Though the world we had lived in was a cruel place, it had a kind of simple mercy to it; any human still living was your ally, and those who were dead were your enemy. That wasn't true in the past. Naivety could get you killed just as easily as lack of skill, and those two were trusting to a fault.

I wished we'd had more time before setting sail. I'm certain that any of the others who heard my name would come at once, rallying around me just as I'd thought long ago. But the Valmese would not wait, and any others on the continent we'd just left behind would be unable to catch up with us. It was a shame, but with any luck they might be safer there. At least they'd be spared from the bloody war we were engaged in.

"Target's been sighted! Ramming speed!" shouted a rough voice from the deck.

There was a rustling of clothing and armor as we all braced ourselves. Two ships ahead of us would take all the punishment from the Valmese in closing with their flagship. I'd wondered whether we'd really be able to pick it out so easily, but Destin had assured me that the commander would be at the front of the fleet. Valmese notions of strength and leadership demanded it.

I tried to shut out the distant sounds of wood being smashed apart by the Valmese attack. Their warships had front mounted ballistae on them, in addition to whatever mages they had aboard. The vessels being sacrificed to open the way for us didn't have a chance.

Abruptly, the ship was rocked by a collision that would've set us all on the floor if we hadn't been there already. A series of smaller collisions followed, and then the same rough voice yelled "Show time, lads and lasses!"

We were already on our way towards the hatch in a predetermined order when it was opened from the other side. Frederick was first out followed by the others who wore heavy armor. After they were all out the fastest and best fighters were next, and I had been included in that number. I would've enjoyed leaving the dark, damp hold and welcoming the brilliant midday sun had I not been going straight into a battle.

It seemed the Valmese had decided to board us first. Our vessel was boxed in by the Valmese flag ship and two other huge warships – we weren't going anywhere. Well, we'd planned to abandon the ship anyways. Soldiers in crimson and gold armor streamed onto our deck from the three enemy ships, swarming the armored wall set up around the hatch. It fell to us latecomers to do something about this.

"Break!" Destin commanded.

Kellam and Kjelle slid apart to provide an opening. Chrom, Destin, Lon'qu, and I all surged through the gap and into the Valmese amassed on the other side. Our whirling swords cut down a dozen of them before they started to pull back. Every moment brought more of the Shepherds onto the deck while the Valmese milled about uncertainly. By the time they charged us again, the hold was empty and we were ready to begin our attack.

It didn't go well for the Valmese. Our armored line broke up entirely, allowing the rest of the Shepherds to slip between them and countercharge the enemy soldiers. The few of us closer to the stern joined the assault from the side. Here on the sea they couldn't use cavalry, and their comparative hesitation was costing them. We nearly swept the main deck clear before reinforcements began boarding us from the three Valmese ships.

"Red, portside!" Destin shouted, struggling to be heard over the din. "Green, to stern! Blue to the target!"

It took me a moment to remember the color named groups he'd divided the Shepherds into to simplify giving orders quickly. The others were used to it by now; the three separate forces snapped together and began advancing in the direction indicated in a single, well-practiced motion. I'd only had one day's worth of drilling in their standard movements, so I didn't react as quickly and ended up lagging behind my assigned group.

We pushed all the way to the edge of our ship, cutting down the Valmese soldiers in our path. The deck of the Valmese warship directly adjacent to us was set higher than our own, and as close as the vessels were they didn't even need boarding planks or grapples to get across. The enemies on board seemed to be readying themselves for another attempt, but for now they were content to exchange largely ineffective missile fire with our line.

I used the short respite to look around. The other two groups had made their way to the sides of the ship, sweeping it clean of Valmese for the moment. I looked past the rigging of the ship to the right, focusing my gaze on another warship that wasn't engaged with us. It sat there dormant, the crew watching our struggle intently.

Would the entire Valmese fleet really just idle and observe this battle without joining it or even going after our other ships? They seemed to be doing just that, but it was hard to believe. Perhaps they had taken this attempt on their flagship as a challenge, an odd sort of naval combat by champion. Well, I suppose it wasn't far off at that; certainly any Valmese commander would surround himself with the strongest of his men, and the Shepherds were the most elite unit in our army. But they were sorely mistaken if they thought we intended to decide the battle with this single clash.

"Archers! Mages! Fall back to the center!" Destin shouted, interrupting my ill-timed reverie.

No sooner had he given the command then the flutter of wings from all sides announced the arrival of Valmese Pegasus Knights. They ducked and weaved around the masts and rigging of the collided ships, readying lances as they swooped down towards us. A haphazard barrage of arrows and spells shot out at them as our long distance attackers struggled to obey Destin's command while not exposing themselves. The Valmese remained undaunted.

A great cry went up from the surrounding ships as the enemy pressed the attack once again. This time mages and heavily armored knights were among the boarding parties, which pressed inward as one. We struggled desperately to hold the sides of the ship against the Valmese, the air filling with clashes of steel and the cries of the wounded.

On the edge of the line, I faced two Valmese soldiers armed with lances. Though my skill and agility were far better than theirs, I was still unused to fighting against living opponents. We made little headway against each other as tentative thrusts were parried or dodged. At last I saw an opening and rushed them, slashing the first man's throat open and bringing Falchion around to meet the second's spear. My parry deflected his weapon to the side, leaving him open for a fatal thrust to the heart.

I barely turned in time to evade the spear of a Valmese Pegasus Knight who darted past me. They were swarming the deck from all directions, though many were being brought down by arrows and spells. Another flier swooped down on me, and though the rider managed to graze my shoulder with her lance my return slash cut deep into her side.

A third seemed ready to attack until a powerful wind spell engulfed rider and mount and hurled them into the sea. I rather doubted the Valmese would bother trying to recover anyone who went overboard.

I returned to the line to take the place of Cordelia, who'd taken a lance through her leg. Able as she was, the crimson haired knight was unused to fighting without her Pegasus. I had a harder time fighting properly as part of a defensive line than on my own. Lengthy spears and poleaxes were much better suited to this kind of combat than my own Falchion. I could best any of these Valmese fighters one on one, but in my current position all I could do was hack at their weapons fruitlessly.

There was no time to assess the overall situation for the next few minutes, but I surmised that the enemy fliers had been defeated. Maribelle and Ricken returned from the central gathering Destin had ordered to fight them off, relieving the pressure the Valmese mages had been putting on our line. Once again the enemy pulled back, regrouping on the deck of their own warship in preparation for another assault.

"Red and green to the target! Blue, board!" Destin called.

I supposed it was that time already. We would give up the deck of our vessel so that we could board the Valmese flagship and take down the commander as planned. My own green group and the red led by Frederick began a measured withdrawal even as Chrom led his party onto the flagship. Valmese soldiers hastily moved forward to contest them, but were pushed back by the force of the Shepherds' advance

The enemy quickly moved to take advantage of our retreat. Valmese soldiers swarmed onto the deck of our ship from the other two warships, though they still didn't dare to charge.

Some ingenious soul had jury-rigged rope ladders leading up to the higher deck of the Valmese flagship. A new line coalesced in front of these ladders, preventing the Valmese from going to the aid of their leader. The sounds of combat continued to echo from above while the two sides glared at each other.

Little doubt Chrom would be facing off against the enemy commander. A great man he might be, but my father was far too eager to place himself in harm's way. But that's just the way he was, and there was no point trying to change it. Even Sumia simply accepted it as part of the man she fell in love with, but I knew that it was going to eventually get him killed. I just hoped it wouldn't be today. If history ended up that far out of place then…

"Red, green, board!" Destin shouted from overhead.

Immediately the rear of the line sheathed their weapons and began climbing the rope ladders onto the flagship. Had we won already? Even with Chrom's power and Destin's skill, to take over a massive ship like that so fast was impressive. As soon as we got everyone on board we could take our leave, at which point the rest would be in the hands of others.

More than half of our number had already climbed onto the flagship by the time the Valmese decided not to let us get away. Perhaps our reduced numbers gave them confidence. They charged forward with a roar.

But if our numbers had been reduced, well, so had theirs. And this time we were fighting on an even surface. I felt like I hadn't fought to the best of my ability until now. We needed time to get everyone on board the flagship, and I was certain that we could make that time.

I darted around the side of the line with Falchion at the ready. The Valmese hadn't expected me to countercharge them; they stopped short and thrust at me with their spears, a number of which I severed in passing. My fluid motions took me past a pair of lightly armored soldiers, both of whom I dispatched with swift slashes across their throats. A heavily armored knight cut me off with his lance, but I reversed my direction and thrust through a gap in his armor near the neck. It wasn't a fatal wound, but enough to put him out of the action.

Continuing onwards, I danced between the steel heads of the Valmese spears and delivered death to our enemy. Risen would have swarmed me without regard for their own existence, but the living had self-preservation to contend with. The more Valmese I felled, the fewer seemed willing to face me. Perhaps I should have retreated to the safety of the line then, but I was determined to buy as much time as possible.

So I persisted, crossing the wooden deck again and again as I struck at the Valmese. I took a few minor cuts where spearheads slipped past my guard, but nothing that would cripple me. Finishing yet another enemy, I stopped short at a shout from behind.

"Lucina! Come on!" Destin shouted.

I whirled to find that I was the last Shepherd on our ship. The others lined the side of the Valmese command vessel, driving the enemy back with spells and arrows. I sprinted back the way I'd come and leapt onto one of the rope ladders, climbing as fast as I could with Falchion still held in one hand.

I knew I shouldn't look back, but the rasp of steel behind me made me turn when I'd nearly reached the top. An armored knight raised his great axe to strike at me, and I was defenseless. I tried desperately to bring Falchion around to block it, but abruptly a crackling blast of lightning shot past me and into the knight. He was thrown back a dozen paces by the blast and fell to the deck, unmoving.

Resuming my climb, I reached up with my free hand only to have it seized by someone. I was hauled onto the deck of the flagship in one movement, though I collided with the person who'd helped me. I looked up to find Destin grinning at me.

"Careful now," he said. In his other hand he held his sword, which he used to cut all of the rope ladders at the top in one clean blow.

I let out the breath it seemed like I'd been holding in forever. We'd all made it, and our part of this plan was a success. After he let go of my hand, Destin raised his own and shot a brilliant red light into the sky. This signal would alert the rest of our fleet that the time to act had come.

The Shepherds bustled about our newly acquired ship, still maintaining projectile fire back at the vessel we'd arrived in to keep the Valmese off our back. It took a minute or two for us to wean the flagship away from the mess of crashed ships, but soon we were in open water and facing the fleet of borrowed Plegian warships that were sailing full speed towards the Valmese.

To the enemy, it would appear that we intended to engage them in a direct battle. They remained where they were, confident that their greater numbers would bring them victory. As Destin had predicted, no one among the Valmese expected what was coming; such a strategy was so alien to their mindset that they would never think of it as a possibility. And why should they? We had taken pains to show them exactly what they wanted to see.

The Plegian warships bearing down on the Valmese stretched as far as the eye could see on either side, arranged into pairs. Soldiers on the ships bustled about, seemingly readying themselves for battle. In our newly commandeered ship we passed one such pair, and only that close were the clay pots visible as the crew dumped oil all over the deck and prepared to jump ship.

All at once fire filled the sky as the soldiers abandoned their condemned vessels and then swiftly put them to the flame. The ship onto which they had fled immediately dropped anchors and halted its advance, as did every other safe vessel. That left the now flaming Plegian ships to sail onwards into the waiting Valmese fleet.

For a long minute there was no reaction at all. Soldiers of both sides just stared as three hundred flaming ships moved closer and closer to their target. The Shepherds were no exception. We'd all known the plan, of course, but it was one thing to imagine such a thing and quite another to see it actually happening. I was mesmerized by the fires roaring on the decks of the vessels.

At last the Valmese began to react, but far too late. Panicked shouts arose only moments before the first of the sacrificial ships collided with the front rank of the Plegian warships and the fire immediately spread to their deck. All along the line they crashed into the Valmese vessels with horrible crunches of tearing wood. Many of them began to sink, their structures damaged catastrophically by the collisions. But they had already done their job.

A fire raging on three hundred ships became a fire on six hundred. Flames leapt up the masts and across the rigging, spreading further to other ships. Tightly packed together as they were, there was no avenue of escape for the Valmese. Soldiers on the doomed ships began attempting to jump to others, though most of them ended up in the sea. Those wearing heavy armor sank instantly, while others flailed about in a desperate bid to stay afloat. But there would be no respite.

Then the wind, which had been but a soft breeze all day, intensified. Flames whipped wildly from the tops of the warships, igniting still more of the Valmese ships. By now the fires had reached the center of the fleet and spread in all directions with a fury I had never seen in a fire before. It was as though the inferno had become a great beast that was swallowing the Valmese whole.

At the far ends of the fleet, ships began to turn slowly using their anchors so that they could peel away from the firestorm. The sailors had reacted far too late, and just as many of the fleeing ships caught fire from adjacent vessels as they extricated themselves.

I stared raptly into the midst of the blazing inferno that had consumed the Valmese fleet. Men were still visible here and there, succumbing to flame and smoke or else leaping off their ships into the sea. All I could hear was the monstrous crackling of the fires and the screams of men. It was… terrible.

I looked down, desperately averting my gaze from the carnage playing out in front of me. My eyes focused on Falchion, which I still held in my right hand. It was thoroughly coated in blood, rapidly drying so that the entire blade was caked in red. The sight of Falchion, a sword of righteousness and purity, sheathed in the life force of people it should have been protecting… It hit me then, all at once – all the people I'd just killed, and the thousands more that were losing their lives right now because of this 'strategy'.

I vomited over the side of the ship.

After a moment a hand squeezed my shoulder, gently but firmly. I looked up to find my father, gazing down at me with a worried expression. He looked a little nauseous himself, but evidently he'd managed to restrain it.

"If I thought I could've spared you the sight of this, I would've," Destin said from where he stood on Chrom's other side. He was staring intently into the heart of the firestorm, but somehow I knew he was speaking to me. "Well, no one should have to witness something like this. But I knew it would affect you especially. I'm sorry."

"You… knew it would be like this?" I asked. I thought I'd understood how awful carrying out Destin's plan would end up being, but nothing had prepared me for this. I'm not sure anything could have.

"Yes. War is never pleasant. Tactics is the business of killing your enemy efficiently. Every action has a consequence, and this is what comes of mine. It's not easy, but someone has to bear it."

I looked over at Destin. The wind rustled his hair slightly and the lurid glow of the distant inferno reflected in his blue eyes. He watched solemnly as his plan neared completion, the flames dragging the Valmese fleet to the depths of the sea.

I remembered what I had thought about before coming to the past, about how I'd need to be prepared to do anything in order to achieve my goals. I'd believed that I was prepared, but could I have done something like this knowingly? I didn't know. But I had already taken part in my own way, slaughtering the Valmese to buy the others time. Wasn't that the same? Even then, I wasn't sure.

But Destin… he understood what I had thought of only in theory. It seemed he was already prepared to take all the sin in the world on himself to win, and to spare others from having to make the hard decisions. It scared me, because I realized in that moment that I didn't want him to. What did that mean?

The firestorm raged on, and I was left with no answer.


	10. Chapter Nine: Landfall

**Chapter Nine: Landfall**

Five days at sea had given me plenty of time to think, if little else. I'd gotten used to the perpetual motion of a sailing ship, though I still rather doubted I'd ever be entirely comfortable on one. It was a feeling I recognized from times when my mother had let me ride her Pegasus; flying and sailing were both interesting experiences, but in the end I was happiest with my feet firmly on the ground.

The voyage was much more enjoyable now that I had the freedom to hang around on the deck rather than being consigned to the hold. The Valmese flagship we had commandeered, which from reading the captain's log had been pretentiously named "Invincible", now belonged to the Shepherds. We'd been the ones to capture it, after all, and Basilio and Flavia had expressed no interest in the massive warship. A naming contest via popular vote had followed, and our new ship had been rechristened "Liberty".

It was much larger than the borrowed Plegian ships. Standing on the upper deck, I could survey our entire fleet from one spot. Even after the sacrifice of half of our ships there was still something awe inspiring in looking about and seeing proud wooden vessels packed with men in every direction.

In the final analysis, less than twenty Valmese ships had escaped the inferno. Several of these hadn't fled far before we'd caught them, deploying our Pegasus Knights to harass the fleeing enemy before taking them down. Perhaps a dozen had actually gotten away from us, but they were scattered and posed little threat to us. I rather doubted any of the remaining crews would be prepared to fight us again after what had happened the last time.

Thus we had traded three hundred ships for nearly eight hundred, as well as the Valmese army that had been aboard. I'm not sure Destin's plan could have worked any better. The way the Valmese had arranged themselves, their panic at the sight of the flaming ships, even the wind – it seemed to me as though fate itself had conspired to grant us our victory.

Whatever the case, we now sailed unimpeded towards the continent of Valm. According to the navigation charts we would be making landfall later in the day, and then the real war would begin. The intent of our first strike would be to capture Valm Harbor to use as a base of operations. From there we would assess the situation before making any further moves. Despite Virion and Cherche's information, there was still a great deal we didn't know about the state of the Valmese Empire and its subjects.

Among the few things I'd remembered of the Valmese war from my time were scattered references to a resistance of some kind. Given the brutality of Walhart's rule, it only made sense that some would fight for their freedom. Dutifully, I had passed this on to Destin. I was certain he would find some way to make use of it.

Perhaps that was what he was doing that very moment. He stood at the bow of the ship looking straight ahead. The wind whipped his hair and coat about in a rather dramatic fashion. He spoke briefly to anyone who approached him, but even Chrom seemed to realize he wasn't interested in conversation.

"Makes quite a sight, doesn't he?" A soft voice said from behind me. I whirled to find that my mother had somehow snuck up on me. She had a slight smile on her face, and walked up to stand beside me.

"Err… yes, I suppose," I said. "Just wondering what he's thinking about. If there's anyone in this entire army I can't figure out, it's Destin."

"He is a rather enigmatic sort, isn't he?" Sumia said. "We still have no idea where he came from or who he was before Chrom found him lying in that field. If he knows, he's certainly not telling."

"I believe him when he claims he doesn't remember anything. It's just unnerving that he never seems to show any real emotion. I've never once seem him get angry. Have you?"

To my surprise, my mother paled slightly. "Once only," she said, a hint of hesitation entering her voice. "And I pray to Naga I never see it again. It was… right after Emmeryn died. When we tried to retreat north away from Plegia Castle, our path was blocked by a brigade of Plegian soldiers. I don't know how they ended up in such a position, but we needed to get away fast before Gangrel caught up with us."

I remembered that day. My own route had taken me further east, but I had known that the Shepherds had engaged in at least one battle before escaping back into Regna Ferox. And now that I thought about it, there had been a powerful storm in the area on my way north.

"Everything about it was horrible. The rain was pounding down on us, we knew we only had a short time before we would be surrounded, and all of us were still shocked by what had happened to Emmeryn." Sumia turned her head to stare off into the distance. "Chrom was the worst. He wasn't even fighting, really. I'm sure he blamed himself for his sister's death."

"Destin had a strategy, of course, but with some of our best fighters incapacitated it wasn't going well. The Plegians were closing in on all sides, and I thought we were finished. That was when it happened. He just walked right into their midst and started taking them apart with his sword and magic. It didn't seem to matter that there were dozens of them and only one of him. It was like he just slid out from under their blows, while every swing of his blade killed or crippled."

I might have had difficulty imagining such a thing until recently. It sounded very much like what I had done during our battle against the Valmese fleet. But anger wasn't what had driven me to do that. It had been the need to hold off the enemy until my comrades escaped to the ship, and the desire to prove myself. I'd wanted to be more useful than I was, and at the time I'd thought of little else.

"The Plegians gave up whatever strategy they'd had originally," Sumia continued, "They just focused on trying to take him down. Their wyvern riders and reinforcements joined the fray, and still they couldn't kill him. I saw… I saw a lightning bolt lance out of the sky and strike one of the wyverns down. It wasn't a spell or anything; it was as though the storm itself was bent to his will. There was this otherworldly purple glow about him, an ethereal sheen like his rage made manifest. And when I saw his face… there was no smile. Just this awful blank look."

"They couldn't stand against him for very long. The remainder of the Plegian troops scattered, and he pushed onward. I stayed with Chrom, trying to motivate him into doing something… but Cordelia told me that Destin killed the enemy commander as well. The Plegian requested that his men be allowed to retreat, and Destin just nodded before shocking him to death with lightning magic. That was the end of it. We escaped north and the rest is history."

I looked back to where Destin was still standing. I had heard that those who hid their anger were the most dangerous to provoke, because it would all come out at once. I suppose Destin was such a person.

Still, to hear about such an outburst was unsettling. Sumia's tale together with the strategy Destin had used to annihilate the Valmese fleet was sufficient to tell me just what the tactician was capable of when pushed to his limits. I'm sure he didn't feel too great about the things he'd done in both situations after the fact, but that didn't affect him when he was in the heart of it.

My mother left me alone with my thoughts, and shortly thereafter Destin returned to his cabin. I went to my own to rest and think things over. Perhaps, I thought, I was fixating too much on one member of a team. But then, as I had explained to him, Destin was probably the individual with the most ability to help avert Grima's return. While Chrom might be the leader of Ylisse and the Shepherds, the fact was that in battle he more or less did as his strategist told him to.

The afternoon quickly passed me by as I napped, and it seemed like no time at all before shouts announcing the sighting of land awoke me. I hurriedly checked my gear and joined the other Shepherds on the deck of the Liberty. As usual, we would act as the spearhead in Destin's plan to take Valm Harbor. Though the town had stone walls, they would be of little use in halting a small scale assault.

At the same time, squads of Feroxi soldiers would be landing on either side of the town and fanning out to reconnoiter the area. If some ambush was planned for our arrival, it was likely we would get word of it before it could be sprung.

Soon the town came into view, and the crew began preparing smaller rowboats to take us to shore. Despite its name, Valm Harbor had no actual docks, rather a wide stretch of beach that prevented us from bringing the larger warships in too close. It made me wonder just where they'd built their fleet; perhaps another port on the other side of the continent? Well, that would be a matter for later.

When the water became too shallow to safely continue in the Liberty, we Shepherds descended into the rowboats and began making our way to shore. The cavalry even had their mounts with them on their boats; the horses looked immensely pleased to finally escape the dark ship holds they'd been transported in.

No attempt was made by the Valmese to contest our landing. The beach continued for another thirty feet before a stone ramp that led into the town proper began. We assembled at the base of this ramp, but before we could begin our assault something caught our attention.

Above the paved streets and stone walls of Valm Harbor, a dramatic chase was occurring in full view of us. A single figure, a slim woman carrying a curved sword in one hand, darted across the rooftops of the town buildings while Valmese soldiers struggled to catch up to her. One or two managed to close with the woman, but swift strokes of her blade sent them to the ground below.

I surmised that this fugitive was a resistance fighter, though clearly one who'd suffered a bout of ill luck. Even as I watched, more Valmese clambered onto the roofs on either side, trapping her between them. No doubt there were more on the street below.

What were the odds that such a situation would come to a head at the very moment of our arrival? Still, the way things looked this woman wouldn't last until we could make it to her. Perhaps a sortie by our Pegasus Knights might be able to save her, but if there were Valmese archers around then it was a risky move. I hadn't forgotten what had happened with Emmeryn, and I'm sure Destin hadn't either.

I looked over at the tactician, wondering what he would do. I was certain he'd have come to the same conclusions I had, and a member of the resistance had the potential to be an excellent source of information. I saw only one way to make it to the woman in time, but perhaps he saw more.

Indeed, he was watching the scene carefully, his eyes darting between the woman and the pursuing Valmese. Now there were only moments until they would fall upon her from both sides. Would he act?

"Lissa," Destin said tersely.

"Right here!" Lissa replied cheerfully, popping up right beside him.

"Use the new staff. I'll give you a boost so you can reach far enough."

"'Kay!" Lissa carefully aligned her wooden staff, pointing the gemstone on the end in the direction of the swordswoman's distant form. Destin reached up and grasped her shoulder firmly with his left hand.

"Do it now," he ordered.

I squinted as I tried to track the rooftop battle. Between one moment and the next a flash of golden light appeared where the woman had been, and then she was gone. The Valmese soldiers that had been pursuing her looked about in confusion. A second later, a similar flash went off right in front of us. It blinded me for only an instant, and when I opened my eyes the swordswoman was standing there.

She wore a stunning outfit of white and purple that was close fitting and trimmed with fur and armor plates around her arms and chest, but flared into divided skirts around her legs. White, knee-high boots and a wide sash emblazoned with some unfamiliar symbol completed it. Empty scabbards hung from either side of her belt. Her raven black hair was past shoulder length, held away from her face by a white headband.

While undoubtedly a capable warrior, she clearly hadn't been prepared for the magic that had just whisked her away from her enemies. Well, neither had I for that matter. She gaped about somewhat foolishly before her eyes settled on Chrom.

"Could you be… Prince Chrom of Ylisse?" She asked him, still looking a little stunned.

"The one and only," Chrom replied. "Are you alright? Perhaps it was a bit premature, but we assumed an enemy of the Valmese is a friend of ours."

"I am well enough, thanks to you," the woman said. She paused for a moment to lower her sword. "I am grateful for your assistance. Indeed, I had hoped that the Ylissean League would be arriving soon. My name is Say'ri, and I am a member of the resistance."

"Then we should have much to discuss," Chrom said. "I'll be happy to hear anything you've got to say after we're done here-"

"Oh no you don't," Destin cut in, tapping my father irritably on the shoulder. "You're going to stay right where you are and talk to Say'ri. You'll learn whatever you can about the resistance and the situation here. I'll take care of _this_." He gestured at the town beyond the walls.

"Very well then," Chrom said, sounding amused. "It seems I'll have plenty of time to discuss things with you, Say'ri, since my strategist has just barred me from participating in this battle."

"I… see," Say'ri said slowly. She glanced sidelong at Destin, who just scowled and stalked off towards the waiting Shepherds. One barked command from him and they were off, Sully and Stahl leading the charge up the ramp into the town. I briefly considered following him, but one more sword would likely make little difference in the battle. It was better to remain here and learn what could be learned.

"A most capable person, it seems. He must be if he is your strategist, for how else could you have defeated the Valmese? We shall await his victorious return, and in the meantime I will tell you everything I know."

"Now that's excellent news," Basilio remarked, arriving alongside Flavia at that very moment. Several squads of Feroxi soldiers hurried past them, arranging themselves in defensive positions on the beach. Destin and the Shepherds would be able to press into the town without having to watch their back.

"I'm Khan Flavia of Regna Ferox," Flavia said, walking over to address Say'ri. "And the oaf is Basilio. Pleased to meet you."

"As am I," Say'ri replied. "I have heard much of the warrior Khans of the east. That you are here now strengthens my hope that we might yet defeat Walhart."

"So there really is an organized resistance?" Chrom asked interestedly. "I thought Walhart had stamped out all the dissenters."

"He tries, but we resistance fighters are a slippery lot. We strike and then vanish into the night before they can respond." She paused to sheath her sword. "Rebels ride to the banners of dynasts who seek freedom for the old states of Valm. United, we could pose a threat to Walhart's empire. I have struggled for some time to bring us together."

"What's stopping you?" Flavia asked.

"Greed. Jealousy. Sloth. All the old weaknesses of man," Say'ri said sourly. "The dynasts would have freedom, but on their own terms. Largely, they are motivated by avarice and self-interest. None of them are willing to be the first to stand up against Walhart. Only when they see profit in it for themselves will they act."

"I take it you're looking for a more convincing argument, then?"

"Just so." Say'ri sighed heavily. "My own efforts have had little success thus far. I fear many distrust me because my brother fights for Walhart."

"Why does he support the empire?" Basilio asked.

"I wish I knew," Say'ri said. "Yen'fay once opposed Walhart just as I do, but at some point he had a change of heart. The reason for it still remains a mystery to me. But whatever his purpose, he is now an enemy. If I met him on the battlefield I would cut him down, the same as any other imperial."

I flinched at the coldness of her words. Perhaps it was a product of the world I'd come from, but I couldn't imagine callously taking the life of a family member based on a difference in principles. Life, especially that of those close to you, was far too precious to simply cast away. I suppose it would be unfair of me to measure Say'ri with my own values, but such a betrayal would have to be cruel beyond imagining before I could consider killing someone that mattered to me.

"…Events here have gone poorly indeed. Walhart's armies now number in the tens of thousands. If we do not unite and face him, eventually he will stamp us out through sheer force of numbers."

"Tens of thousands… so many?" I said, aghast. "Even after they lost the entire invasion fleet?" I'd known they would have more troops than that, of course, but we did not have ten thousand soldiers in our entire army. To fight so badly outnumbered was a poor prospect.

"Hah! And what do numbers mean to you Ylisseans?" Say'ri laughed. "You defeated their fleet, did you not? Such heroism will inspire the people of this continent. Together, I know we can yet bring the people together and break Walhart's grip!"

"It is no easy task you lay before us," my father warned. "But we knew that when we came here. We didn't cross the sea and set fire to the waves themselves merely to turn back at the first sign of adversity. We came to defeat Walhart and free the people of this continent, and so our two causes are as one. Whatever comes, Say'ri, we will stand with you."

As if in answer to the bold declaration, a shining red beacon I recognized as Destin's signal spell began emanating from inside the walls. The area had been cleared of imperial troops, and it was now safe for the army to move in. At Flavia's order, columns of Feroxi troops began filing up the ramp and into the town.

_Here we are, Walhart, _the beacon seemed to be saying. _Come and get us._


	11. Chapter Ten: The Long March

**Chapter Ten: The Long March**

Our next course of action was eventually decided by simple necessity. Upon telling Destin all that we had learned from Say'ri, he had agreed that rallying the dynasts and other resistance fighters to us would be the best way of conducting the campaign at this point in time.

A few more victories such as we had already won against the Valmese would do wonders to incite action amongst the populace. If they believed that there was a good chance Walhart would lose, more would be willing to join us. The rest would follow for fear of missing out on the glory and the rewards once the Conqueror fell. Thus, it was a matter of pushing a single boulder downhill so that it might start an avalanche.

However, victories required enemies to be won against, and the limited information we had from Say'ri indicated that most of the Valmese were gathered into a small number of larger armies. Success against such forces could potentially cost the Ylissean League more than it was worth. Outnumbered as badly as we were, it was critical that we pick and choose our battles carefully.

Say'ri had suggested an alternate course to win the dynasts to our cause. The majority of the population of this continent worshipped the Divine Dragon Naga, as did the peoples of Ylisse and Regna Ferox. The Divine Dragon's Voice, an ancient being and a child of Naga herself, resided here in a shrine on top of the truly enormous Mila Tree. Rumor was that she had been asleep for centuries, resting until such a time as the world needed her again. To awaken the Voice and gain her support might give the people the call to action they needed.

Of course, Say'ri had planned to do just such a thing before our arrival. But Walhart, displaying a presence of mind we hadn't seen thus far, had deployed a sizable force of imperial troops to the base of the Mila Tree. Reaching the Voice without dislodging these troops was impossible. Without the numbers she needed to break through, Say'ri had been forced to abandon that plan until now.

Unfortunately, the Mila Tree was also located very close to the center of the continent. That meant a long march inland for our army, and the farther in we went the more exposed we would become. We were betting that Walhart's armies weren't quite prepared to take the field against us, and that we would have enough time to free the Voice of Naga before they had a chance to contest us.

We had left a garrison of a few hundred soldiers in Valm Harbor. They wouldn't be able to repel a Valmese force of any size, but if such a force appeared they had orders to flee to the ships and cast off. Because the Valmese didn't have a second fleet to attack ours with, there wasn't anything they could do about it at sea. If things went so badly that we needed to affect a retreat from the continent, it would be a simple matter to seize a beach and signal the ships to pick us up. Supplies were a more troublesome matter, but if the Valmese war in this world ended as quickly as the one in mine had then all would be well.

It was a solid two day march to the Mila Tree. A small group might've been able to make it faster, but with an army numbering in the thousands our pace was modest by necessity. Logistics for such an army launching an extended campaign in enemy territory must have been a nightmare. It wasn't something I'd ever thought about before, but I had plenty of time to contemplate on the march. There were no armies in my world save those of the dead. 'Logistics' in my time was a question of whether or not you had enough food to survive until tomorrow.

Thinking about such things set my mind down a dark and well-treaded path, and I spent much of the first day on the march lost in my own sorrows. Remembering the world I had once known grew more difficult with each passing day; when compared with this past I'd come to, it only illuminated how truly bleak and hopeless my world was. How could it be otherwise, when here my parents and beloved comrades were all still alive and well? The people of this world had their troubles, but theirs was not a daily fight for survival against an enemy that couldn't be beaten.

"Lucina?"

I looked up to find Destin walking beside me, regarding me with a slightly concerned expression. Engrossed as I'd been in my own memories, I hadn't realized he was there or that he was talking to me. Embarrassment reddened my face, only becoming more pronounced when my first thought after looking at him was that he was really quite handsome.

"Oh, umm… I'm sorry," I managed weakly. "I was just lost in thought."

"Clearly," he replied amusedly. "What were you thinking about?"

"…The world I left behind. I know I shouldn't keep dwelling on it - I can never return, and it'll only depress me. But I just can't help it sometimes. I wonder if there are still any survivors at all, now that my comrades and I have left."

"A difficult subject," he said. "I wish I could tell you they'd be fine, but honestly I doubt I could ever understand how hard and cruel such a world would be without experiencing it. A future that we lost… a world we couldn't save. That it exists at all is a humbling reminder of the cost of failure."

I said nothing for a minute. He was all too correct, and I was well aware that comforting words alone couldn't wipe away my sorrow no matter how well-intentioned. Only once Grima's return was prevented and this world safe could the scars I bore begin to heal. Yet all the same, words from the right person could mean a great deal. The man walking beside me had already awoken my hope with his earnest vow of support.

"Do you know what became of these lands we now march through in your time?" Destin asked.

"The same as everywhere else," I said sadly. "I understand there were yet a number of survivors on this side of the sea when I departed. They were mostly remnants of the Valmese imperial armies as well as those of the dynasts we now seek to enlist. Occasionally they tried to come together and form a unified front against the Risen as we do, but it never lasts long. The undead are simply too many to be defeated in battle."

"Another reminder of why we mustn't fail. The fate of all humanity is dependent upon the things we do here and now."

"Yes," I said. "And my father is the key. Should he fall, I'm certain the events of my future will come to pass here as well. If that happens, our struggle can only postpone the inevitable, not alter it. When I fight to protect him, it doesn't matter how great or terrible the foe is. I know that I have no choice. I simply cannot lose."

"You are burdened by the knowledge that you must overcome fate itself," Destin observed. "I can scarcely imagine a heavier weight. But always keep in mind, Lucina, that you don't have to do it alone. You have friends ready to aid you against whatever comes. Your father leads an army of men and women who would die for him." A self-deprecating smile formed on his lips. "Oh, and you have me, for whatever that's worth."

"It's worth a great deal, Destin," I said. "Knowing that you're with me gives me strength. I worry sometimes that I won't be strong enough to do what I must when the time comes. I can't rely on others to do everything for me… but I know if I falter that I can lean on you for support."

"Good. You'll be strong enough when the time comes, I'm certain. I've seen in you a willpower that knows no equal and a determination that I can only marvel at. And if you falter, I'll be right there."

Our conversation turned to brighter subjects after that, but when Destin finally left my side to discuss something with Chrom I felt impossibly light. It was as though a terrible pressure had been building on me the more I'd thought of the world I'd left and my talk with him had relieved it. My mind didn't return to the future again that day. Instead I thought of happier things.

Relieved of the dark pall on my mind, I appreciated the landscape we were passing through. The verdant fields and forests weren't quite as picturesque as those I'd seen back in Ylisse, but they still had their own beauty.

I was tired when we finally made camp that night, but not exhausted. I ate dinner with my parents and Destin, and after the meal I broached the subject of possibly learning some things about tactics from him. To my surprise, he was quite enthusiastic about the idea. I rather doubted I would ever be able to match him in that regard, but when I voiced those doubts he simply shook his head.

"That's not the point. Even rudimentary knowledge can be important. A soldier who has a grasp of basic tactics will better understand their own role in a battle, and be able to help execute the overall strategy. I wish more people were willing to learn, but they all have their own interests I suppose."

I'd never looked at it that way before, but it made a lot of sense to me. The question then became just when he was going to find the time to teach me anything, considering we were in the middle of a war. Destin maintained that he would make time as long as I did. I was determined that I would. In the midst of the conversation I caught my mother and father watching us with strange expressions on their faces; but when I asked them if something was wrong, they just laughed and shared a fond look.

Perhaps, I thought, they were simply unused to their daughter being only a few years younger than they were. Well, I wasn't exactly used to having both of my parents around either. I'd lived almost my entire life without Chrom, and after Sumia had died I had had to accept life without her too. That I could be with them now was… a blessing beyond description.

Being an elite unit didn't exempt the Shepherds from our share of night watch duty around the army's camp. Fortunately we'd drawn a reasonably early lot, so I found myself patrolling our western flank along with the others shortly after the darkness of night had descended in full. Each of us carried a lit torch as we watched for signs of an attack.

It wasn't likely that the Valmese would launch a night raid even if they had somehow snuck a sizable force close to our location, but Destin had brought up the possible threat of a Risen attack. Validar and his Grimleal had already demonstrated their ability to control the undead, and had reason to send them after us. We didn't know whether or not they could summon enough of them on this side of the sea to pose a threat, but we were prepared just in case.

I felt a sense of peace as I slowly walked through the dry grass, peering out into the night. That in itself was a surprise; I couldn't remember the last time I'd truly felt at peace. From the day I'd come to understand the realities of my own world until now, only rarely did I find a moment where there wasn't something pressing on my mind. I'd lost count of the number of nights I'd tossed and turned, unable to find sleep on account of the worries putting my gut in knots.

Yet all of that seemed to just drain out of me that night. The only sounds were the scuff of boots on dirt and those of nature. I focused entirely on my appointed duty, forgetting all the problems I'd dragged with me; even if only for a little while.

Our watch ended without incident, and when I crawled into my blankets I fell asleep before I could stop to think about anything. If I dreamt that night, I didn't remember it in the morning.

The Ylissean League resumed its march bright and early, many still tiredly rubbing sleep out of their eyes. Everywhere in the column soldiers were munching on rations as they marched. Wide awake and much more alert than I'd been the day before, I wandered throughout the column, pausing to talk to those of my comrades in the Shepherds that I encountered. Many grumbled good-naturedly about the march, but all of them seemed to be in good spirits considering our situation.

I wondered how they'd feel if they knew just how badly outnumbered we were. Perhaps no different; many of the Shepherds possessed an absolutely unwavering faith in the abilities of Chrom and Destin. As long as those two believed there was a chance to win, the Shepherds would believe it too no matter the evidence to the contrary.

It was still early in the day when I spotted a tall, grassy hill to the side of the road we were using. On a sudden impulse, I ran up to the top of it and surveyed the landscape in front of us. It might've been my imagination, but I thought I could see something far in the distance that might just be the Mila Tree. It was only a bare outline, but to see anything at this distance… it must be truly gigantic.

I remained atop the hill for a minute, enjoying the light breeze and watching the army's movements. To my left, a lone Pegasus Knight was approaching. I frowned slightly. Our own fliers never went on patrol alone, but it didn't look like a Valmese soldier either. Abruptly, I realized it was coming in for a landing right on the hill on which I was standing.

Moving to one side, I was almost knocked off by the movement of the Pegasus' wings as it touched down. I regained my footing only to be nearly hit again by the rider vaulting off the saddle. I looked up, more than a little irritated and intending to give the Pegasus Knight a piece of my mind…

…but my tongue froze entirely. The familiar blue hair tied into tails on either side of the girl's head and the silvery armor she wore caught me off guard. Perhaps I should've expected it, considering we'd gone through the rift together. But I certainly hadn't anticipated meeting my sister again in these circumstances. Her usual infectious smile was mischievous and relieved at the same time.

"Heya Lucy!" Cynthia said cheerfully.

"H-how did you know I was here?" I asked.

"I didn't!" She said. "But I figured at least one of us had to be with dad by this time. I'm really glad it was you though!"

There was no denying that I was happy to see my little sister, but her being here did present some difficulties. Thus far I'd kept the presence of the other children who'd gone through the rift with me quiet. Kjelle and I had decided that it was for the best; Sully and Stahl didn't know yet that she was their daughter. There were enough problems with my father and his comrades knowing that we were their offspring from the future, let alone accounting for those among our number who hadn't even been conceived yet.

Cynthia would never be able to hold a secret like that. Even if she tried, she'd let something slip sooner or later and then our father would think we'd been trying to deceive him. It seemed that we were going to have to get everything out in the open now. It was sooner than I'd planned for, but not by too much.

"Yoohoo! You in there, Lucy?"

"Ah… sorry, Cynthia. I'm really glad to see you too, I just didn't expect it." It might've been a bit of an understatement.

"So he's actually here, right? Dad's here?"

I nodded in reply.

"Awesome!" Cynthia exclaimed. "I can't wait to meet him! Is he really heroic?"

A smile curved my lips at the question. My sister was so determined to be a real hero that she needed her father to be one as well. She already thought of our mother and me as such. By what standards did one judge someone to be a 'hero' anyways? Well, whatever they were, thinking of the man I'd come to know since arriving in the past brought me an easy response.

"Yes. Yes he is, Cynthia. Come on, let's go find him. You can see for yourself."

My parents were in for a surprise, that much was certain.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Voice of the Divine

AN: Apologies for the delay. I needed to take a break and work on some other things, but hopefully now I can get a good pace going again. Enjoy.

**Chapter Eleven: Voice of the Divine**

Up close, the Mila Tree was a colossal edifice that dwarfed anything I had imagined. The sheer height of it put even the tallest mountains to shame. Such a tree would be impossible if not for the touch of Naga. I felt a deep sense of awe, staring at the enormous creation. It reminded me of the gigantic skeleton in Plegia; but while that was an inimical reminder of death, this was a prospering icon of life.

The tree's roots formed a complicated series of walkways leading up to the base. According to Say'ri, a staircase had been constructed there that would take us up to the branches where the Voice's shrine was located. The Valmese force was deployed right in front of it.

We left Flavia and Basilio in charge of the majority of the army while the Shepherds led the assault. Only a small number of us would be going up the tree once the battle was over, while the rest would remain on guard in case the Valmese army approached. Destin split us into the usual color groups and ordered us to advance up different sets of roots to contain the enemy. He also cautioned us not to get split up. With that said, we began the attack.

The Valmese didn't seem eager to come out and fight. Although they were on the defensive, they didn't have a strong position to hold. Perhaps they were trying to lure us in and then strike with the Pegasus Knights we'd caught sight of earlier. They had to know that they couldn't hold us for long with the forces they had.

Green group, which I was part of, quickly pushed up the right side and made contact with the enemy. The terrain forced the enemy into close quarters combat with smaller numbers than a conventional battle. These were only regular imperial soldiers, and against elites like the Shepherds they didn't have a chance. We broke the first Valmese line without much trouble and made our way further up the roots.

I was mindful of our surroundings, expecting some kind of ambush to occur. As we came closer to the Mila Tree we entered the dome of its immense canopy, which nearly blocked out the sun entirely. It felt as though we were in a dense forest, even if it was only one tree. Each comparatively tiny branch and offshoot was as large as a normal tree. There was a surreal quality to the air, a tranquility that I'd only ever felt before at Mount Prism. This was the blessing of Naga.

A second line of Valmese soldiers blocked our path. I led the charge, my superior agility and sword skill allowing me to swiftly break through them and create an opening for the others. In mere moments we had overwhelmed that position as well. For a moment I was impressed by our speed, and I thought we might have to stay put to avoid outstripping the other teams.

Then I stopped to look at the center and realized that the Blue group had pushed just as far as we had. My father and Destin were both at the front, striding forwards to meet a countercharge of Valmese troops. Three were brought down by lightning bolts flying from Destin's hands before they managed to close the gap, but Chrom was ready. A powerful slash from Falchion killed another and forced the others back, only for a fifth to fall to Destin's magic. The remainder tried to rush the tactician, only for him to casually sidestep and place himself behind Chrom. Their attempts to get past him were unsuccessful, but their retreat only brought Destin out from the other side to drop the last few with more lightning bolts.

It was amazing, I thought, how well they worked together. There was no need for orders or words when the other person understood you so well that they could predict what you'd do before you did it. Chrom was sheer power while Destin was pinpoint accuracy, yet their styles blended seamlessly into a greater whole. The enemy could rain down on them all day and they'd never manage to get past those two.

I wondered if I would ever be able to do the same thing. Of course I'd fought alongside others, even close comrades, but that was magnitudes different than what I'd just witnessed. It would be wonderful to have someone who understood you that well, someone you could trust unconditionally. But regardless of the bonds I had with my friends and family, I didn't really have anyone like that. For some reason the closest person I could think of was Destin, but even then…

Why would I think that? I had only known him for a week or two, and not very well at that. Why would I trust him more than people I'd spent years fighting for survival with? Maybe because I'd seen something in him. That was why I had specifically talked to him about the world I'd come from, and why it was his help that I wanted more than any other when it came to preventing that world. Still, it was a strange thought to be having.

"Lucina! Come on!" Cordelia called.

I blinked twice. I'd gotten so caught up musing that I'd missed my own group advancing. I blushed crimson and hurried back to the front. There were only a few Valmese stragglers to take care of before we hit another line. The imperials seemed better prepared this time, and their ranks were drawn in tighter around where I assumed their commander would be.

We might have been able to break through with a concerted push, but we still had Destin's orders to carry out. He'd ensured that every member of the Shepherds knew and understood his strategy before we'd begun our assault, just so there'd be no miscommunications. Based on the enemy's numbers and the Pegasus Knights we'd seen, Destin had surmised that they were trying to ambush us. But the Valmese commander's plan hadn't just relied on the fliers…

"Here they come," Ricken said, peering back down the slope of the roots we'd climbed. "Just as Destin predicted."

Sure enough, several squads of Valmese soldiers were coming up behind us. I guessed they'd hidden themselves amongst the roots at the very base of the tree and waited for their chance to strike from behind. If we'd charged headlong into the final enemy line without stopping to survey the situation, things might have turned ugly. But while it wasn't a bad plan, against a tactician of Destin's skill it came apart easily.

All three of our groups wheeled around and began a charge back down towards the Valmese ambush troops. They froze in their tracks, caught off guard by our sudden reversal. They might have tried to retreat, but an entire battalion of troops from our main army had followed them up the roots and had set up a blocking position according to Destin's plan. There would be no escape for the would be ambushers.

I led the group as we smashed into the enemy soldiers that had been approaching from the rear. Two fell to my blade almost instantly, and the rest weren't long in following as the others swarmed them. The whole encounter was over in seconds.

It surprised me how little regret I felt cutting down the Valmese. I could remember a time when I hadn't been sure I'd ever get used to killing other humans. How many times had I heard the phrase 'it gets easier' from veteran soldiers? I guess it was proving true. I'm not sure I liked that fact.

In my time, human life was a precious thing. That it was so disregarded here as to be thrown away like trash still offended me, though I would still take those lives. They stood in the way of the world's salvation. As I'd told Destin, I had no choice but to succeed. So I killed, and tried not to think about it.

It seemed as though the Valmese soldiers we'd faced here were the dregs of their military. The invading army we'd faced at sea had been well trained and well equipped, and I couldn't judge the troops that had defended Valm Harbor since I'd sat that battle out. But first the outer defensive lines and now these ambush troops had been rather subpar. Somehow I'd expected more from a conquering empire. I supposed that this force had only been deployed to block the rebel elements, so they hadn't needed any elites. But against us… well, that wasn't enough.

Perhaps it was a side effect of forced conscription. Many of the recruits probably weren't too happy with their lot. They weren't determined or particularly motivated, and they certainly didn't have the experience of a real fighting unit. And here they were, forced into a battle in which they had no stake.

The Pegasus Knights tried their luck just as we were finishing with the ambush troops, but they didn't fare any better. Our archers and wind mages had been held back to deal with them when they appeared, and their mounts were simply too vulnerable to such attacks to last long. With both parts of the enemy's plan taken down, all that remained was to finish the commander and break through to the shrine.

We took our time, regrouping in front and pausing to check equipment and heal minor injuries before renewing the assault. My group pushed on the right side, swiftly eliminating the enemy troops there and flanking the central Valmese force. We charged inward at the same time as Red group did from the other side, falling on the enemy with great force.

Naturally, Chrom was engaging the Valmese commander. He was a large man clad in heavy crimson armor, and though his head was bald a thick mustache gave him a strange appearance. They appeared to be talking to each other between exchanges, but I was too far away to make out what they were saying.

Chrom managed to land several blows, but the man's armor was strong. My father hadn't managed to deal any significant damage with his strikes, which was more than a little surprising to me. I knew just how much force he put into his attacks. If he couldn't hurt his opponent, then…

Chrom leapt back just in time as a spiraling torrent of wind descended on the branch they had been dueling on. The powerful wind funnel seized the Valmese commander, armor and all, and flung him straight off. He gave a muffled shout as he plummeted from sight. I winced slightly. That was quite a fall, especially in heavy armor. I rather doubted we would be seeing the man again.

Destin dispersed the wind magic he'd just used and joined Chrom in moving towards the center of the tree. With the Valmese defeated, it was time for us to ascend the Mila Tree to awaken the Voice of Naga. Carved stairs wrapped around the trunk as far as the eye could see. It only then occurred to me that we were going to climb this tree that was taller than most mountains. Suddenly it didn't seem like such an easy prospect.

Surely we weren't going all the way to the top. The tree was gigantic – it would take us the rest of the day to get that far. The shrine would be high up, but it wasn't as though we were climbing up the side. The stairs would lead us there. It couldn't be too bad.

After half an hour of climbing stairs, I revised my previous opinion. Indeed, if I were to never see another set of stairs after today I don't think I'd miss them terribly. We probably would've lost a few members on the way up if not for Kellam bringing up the rear, gently pushing anyone who fell behind. Predictably, they never even realized he was there.

The sheer natural beauty of the Mila Tree nearly made up for it, though. The further we climbed the more surreal it felt. Many branches of the tree near us were covered in other plants that were growing right out of the bark. This place was an entire forest worth of life condensed into a single tree. I wish I had been able to see it in my own time, though I imagine Grima had probably burned it down like everything else. It would only offend him.

At length we arrived at our destination– it wasn't the top, but the stairs didn't go any further up. Here the branches were so dense that a small meadow had grown around the tiny shrine. The grass was so vibrant it practically glowed, and gorgeous clumps of flowers grew all about. For a moment I considered picking one to keep, but I stayed my hand. This was a sacred place, not some ordinary garden. They weren't for me.

Though the enormous branches of the Mila Tree continued far into the sky to form the crown, there were many gaps in the walls of bark around the meadow through which one could look out for miles. Many of the Shepherds ran to these openings to gaze out over the land in all directions, their exhaustion quite forgotten. It was the kind of view one could spend all day looking at and never tire of.

It was all so wondrous, but we had come here for a purpose. I joined Chrom, Destin, and Say'ri as they entered the shrine where the Voice was supposed to be sleeping. It was a small thing with barely enough room for all of us inside…

And there she was, sitting on the smooth floor in a meditative pose. Flowing green hair no human would ever possess and her sharply pointed ears told me this was who we had come for. She wore a tight red robe with a pink and white shawl arranged overtop. A gold ornament with a ruby inset into it adorned her hair.

I felt like there was something familiar about her. Perhaps, I thought, I had seen her while I was still young in my own time. Assuming that the Voice had joined my father then as well, she might well have come to Ylisstol before she'd died. But that was all it was – vague memories.

"Lady Tiki," Say'ri said solemnly, approaching her. "Prithee, answer."

For a moment there was no sign that her words had had any effect. Then the Voice suddenly yawned hugely and stretched out her arms. I suppose it would be difficult to wake up after a few centuries asleep. Despite that, within seconds she was regarding us neutrally, even if she still didn't seem fully awake. Her eyes narrowed when she looked at me.

"Marth?" She asked slowly. "Mar-Mar? Is that you?"

I admit I had absolutely no idea what to say. I may have used Marth's name and even dressed like him, but somehow I'd never imagined that I'd actually be mistaken for the Hero King by someone who'd been alive long enough to know him. Especially with my hair undone and without the mask. I could almost laugh, if I wasn't afraid of offending the Voice. Clearly she wasn't entirely lucid yet.

"My name is Lucina, milady," I said finally. "Though I did go by the name Marth for a time."

Chrom and Say'ri both looked a little surprised, but Destin seemed like he was seconds away from cracking up. I glanced at him sidelong and he quickly sobered.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Tiki said, stifling another yawn. "You reminded me of someone I knew. But… he's gone now." She hugged herself slightly. "You and your father are of the exalted bloodline, are you not?"

"Yes, milady," Chrom said.

"Do those of your blood still possess the Fire Emblem? It was to be passed down through your family…"

In response, Chrom lifted his left arm. The Emblem itself hung there, golden frame glistening. My father had kept it on his arm at all times since the Plegian War. He'd even taken to using it as a shield. There was no need to tell the Voice about that, though. Was there?

"It is a relief to know that it has not been lost," Tiki said, tracing an idle finger across the Emblem's surface. "But where are the Gemstones? Only Argent is here."

Four of the five sockets stood empty, while a brilliant white gem rested in the fifth. Argent had been kept along with the Emblem by the exalted bloodline. I knew of the Gemstones and their importance from my own world, in which I had feverishly researched the Awakening ritual with the intent of bringing back Naga. But without the Emblem, it had all come to naught.

I listened patiently as Tiki explained the history of the Gemstones and the need for all five of them to be mounted on the Emblem before the Awakening ritual could be performed. When she was finished, the Voice reached into her robe and pulled out a similarly dazzling blue gem.

"I have kept Azure here with me all this time," she said quietly. "In man's time of need, so shall it return." Then she pushed it into the waiting socket.

"The kingdom of Chon'sin had safeguarded Vert for generations," Say'ri announced. "But the Gemstone was given to Walhart as a concession so that he wouldn't bring his armies against the Dynasts. No doubt he still has it."

"That still leaves two," I said. "Milady, do you have any idea where the others might be?"

Tiki closed her eyes. "No, I'm afraid they are no longer known to me. They may have been lost during the Schism."

They couldn't have been lost entirely, or else the Awakening ritual that had brought Grima back in my world wouldn't have been possible. It could be that the Grimleal were in possession of one, but I rather hoped not. Things were going to be difficult enough without having to face them head on in order to perform the Awakening.

"Most of the nations that now exist were founded during that time," Chrom said. "Any one of them could be hiding a Gemstone. I wonder if Regna Ferox had one? I'll have to ask Basilio and Flavia later."

"It is imperative that you gather all five as quickly as possible in order to awaken Naga," Tiki said. "The world must be defended from the wrath of Grima."

"I thought you'd been asleep for centuries," Chrom said with a puzzled expression. "How could you know that? His power was supposed to have been sealed away, right?"

"Correct," the Voice replied. "But I have not been unaware all these years. Even in my slumber I could feel Grima's power rising. His life force grows stronger now, and the long shadow of despair along with it. His servants have come out from all corners of the world with the intention of returning the Fell Dragon to this world. They must be stopped at all costs. It is a heavy burden, but as always it must fall on those of the exalted bloodline."

"I know," Chrom said. "Thank you for your help, Lady Tiki. I promise you we will not fail."

The Voice looked at each of us in turn, but when her gaze alighted on Destin her eyes widened. With him staying out of the discussion, perhaps she hadn't had a close look at him until now. She raised a protective hand to her chest and whispered something that sounded like 'you'.

I watched with interest and a little trepidation. The Voice had seen something in Destin, and she seemed surprised and afraid of whatever it was. To produce that kind of reaction in the daughter of the Divine Dragon herself… just what was it that she saw?

For his part, Destin simply tilted his head and looked at her quizzically. Clearly he hadn't anticipated this reaction either. "Is something wrong, milady?" He asked after a long moment.

"You… have power like mine," Tiki murmured. Suddenly she seemed to remember that there were other people in the room. "Ah, forgive me. I'm still groggy, and my words outpace my thoughts."

"Are you alright, milady?" Say'ri asked.

"I'm fine, just tired," the Voice said, her tone reassuring. "But I haven't the strength to join you. Not yet. I will do my best to call the people together so that we can put an end to this conflict. Mankind has no time to be fighting amongst themselves while the Fell Dragon is stirring."

We left then, gathering up the Shepherds for the trip back down. Many groaned about the idea of confronting the stairs again, but they fell in line quickly enough. A few talked excitedly about things they'd seen from the top of the Mila Tree. As always, most were content to leave the weighty matters to their trusted leaders.

My thoughts were elsewhere, dwelling on Lady Tiki's words. _'You have power like mine' _was what she had said to Destin. But he couldn't be a Voice of Naga as well, could he? I could practically feel the touch of the Divine Dragon on Lady Tiki, but I had never sensed anything of the sort around Destin. What else could she have meant?

There was only one other being that needed a Voice, and that… simply wasn't possible. No, I'd already dismissed the idea that Destin was secretly working for the enemy. His words, his expressions, his actions – they weren't false.

Which left… what, exactly? I shivered slightly as my gaze settled on the tactician's form walking at the front of the group, hands in the pockets of his coat and a far off expression on his face. I wanted to trust him so badly, but I also wanted to know the truth. And if I had to make a decision, I honestly don't know which I would choose.


	13. Chapter Twelve: The Battle of Steiger

**Chapter Twelve: The Battle of Steiger**

All of us could have used a rest by the time we'd climbed back down the Mila Tree, but alas, it was not to be. Basilio and Flavia were waiting for us at the base along with a plain looking man I didn't know. They seemed anxious.

It turned out he was a spy working for the resistance movement, and he'd come here looking for Say'ri to deliver critical information. She quickly took him aside and listened to his report before returning. By the look on her face, the news was grim.

"Walhart has left the capital," she announced. "The Valmese army is divided into three forces of near equal size. One is with Walhart headed this way from the north, the second under the command of my brother Yen'fay and approaching from the south. The third is holding position at Fort Steiger, immediately southwest of here."

"No doubt they'll try to surround us and attack from all directions," Destin said. "With their numbers, we have no chance of victory going against all three armies at once. While Lady Tiki's support will surely prove invaluable in the days to come, we're dangerously overextended right now. Walhart knows that."

"So what should we do?" Chrom asked the tactician. "I'd hate to think we've come all this way just to retreat."

"I'm not sure we could pull off an effective retreat in our current position. The Valmese specialize in cavalry, and I'm certain that makes up the bulk of Walhart's force. He could easily ride us down on the way back to Valm Harbor." Destin scratched his head uncomfortably before continuing. "Our best chance is to strike now, while the enemy is divided. If we can eliminate one of the forces, we'll earn ourselves some breathing space and hopefully provoke some action out of the southern dynasts."

"I don't think we want to take on Walhart directly, not yet," Flavia said. "And if we march to meet Yen'fay's army than the force in Steiger could take the field and pincer us. I guess that really leaves us one option."

"What kind of intelligence do you have on this fort, Say'ri?" Destin asked.

"Steiger predates the Valmese Empire, and it's somewhat timeworn. I seem to recall that one of our agents managed to steal a structural plan of the fort, but it had no significant value to the resistance at the time. We may still have it."

"That would be helpful. Speed is definitely going to be the deciding factor here. We need to defeat the forces inside Steiger with enough time left over to maneuver afterwards. If we can carry enough momentum from our victory there, we should be able to smash Yen'fay's southern force as well. But if Walhart gets here too quickly… things will get ugly."

"We won't be able to use all of our forces in the attack on Steiger, but we may have another use for them. If we send a blocking force to delay Walhart on the road, that might give us the time we need," Destin concluded.

"Won't we basically be sacrificing those troops, though?" Chrom asked. He didn't look very pleased by the idea.

"Most likely," Destin said. "They won't be able to stop Walhart, only slow him down. The best battles are the ones where you don't have to lose any soldiers, but we don't have that luxury right now."

I watched the raven haired tactician carefully. I could see that he wasn't happy about it either, but he thought it would give us the best chance of victory. When it came to strategy, Destin didn't let his personal feelings get in the way – I had noticed this lately, but only now did it make sense to me. We were here to fight a war, and all wars had casualties.

"It seems our main course of action is decided in any case," Basilio said. "If speed is important, then I'll go and get the army moving right away. If there's anything else that needs to be done, try to decide it quickly." The bald Khan marched away, shouting orders at his men.

"If you agree, I believe it would be best for me to venture on ahead," Say'ri said. "I need to get in contact with my comrades in the resistance if we're to obtain those plans. In addition, I might be able to rally some additional troops to our cause. It seems the decisive battle will be fought sooner than expected, and we need every man we can find."

"Yes, I think that would be for the best," Chrom said. "Destin? Flavia?"

"No arguments here," Flavia replied lazily.

"It's a risk with such a large number of Valmese troops nearby, but I think it's a good idea. I'm going to have Cherche fly you wherever it is you need to go on her dear Minerva. It'll be faster and safer."

Say'ri sighed. "I have never been overly fond of wyverns, but you are correct. I will manage."

She took her leave, and the rest of us prepared ourselves to set out once more. Judging from the distance we'd be able to march most of the way to Steiger in the little daylight we had left, then rest up for one night before the attack. The Shepherds in particular were uniformly exhausted, and I was no exception to that.

Destin and I had our first tactics lesson when we made camp that night. I was physically tired, but my mind was still fresh enough to absorb what he was teaching me. It was no kind of formal lecture; we just sprawled out on the floor of his tent while he talked about the uses of different classes of troops and the effects of terrain on one's deployments. Occasionally he'd leaf through one of his books and point out a particular passage to me, or else make an example of one of his own strategies.

I was determined to learn all that I could as fast as I could, and I think the honest effort I put in really helped. I already had a foundation of sorts, seeing as I had already commanded troops in battle. I simply hadn't understood the nuances behind every decision to be made in a fight. It was a good thing I'd only battled Risen in my own time; they didn't use tactics, or hadn't until recently.

It was something of a new experience for me. The only thing I'd really been taught how to do before was swordplay, and that had been years ago. Lon'qu's teaching style had been to show me how to do a maneuver and then push me until I got it right. Sparring had been his preferred tool, and he hadn't taken it easy on me just because I was a woman or the heir to a nation. But I'd survived it, and there were few living who could match my skill with a blade.

This was different. It didn't really feel like Destin was teaching at all, rather we were talking about things that he had a better understanding of than I did. If I was wrong, he would gently correct me and explain to me why that was the case. It felt so natural that I got a bit carried away, and didn't end up going back to my own tent until very late.

Even then I didn't find sleep immediately. I lay in my blankets with my head rested on my hands thinking, mostly about the lesson and the man giving it. I really didn't know what I thought of him anymore, except that I liked being around him. His presence put me at ease like few other things could, gave me things to think about other than my problems. A smile curved my lips just recalling the last few hours.

If only I could know for certain just where he'd come from, why I'd never met him in my world, and why Naga's Voice seemed so afraid of him. If I had those questions answered, then I could trust him completely, and then… what? I fell asleep before I could sort that out.

A surprise awaited me when I woke the next morning; it seemed that Cynthia was not the only one of my companions to have been deposited on this continent by the Rift. Three others had joined up with the Ylissean League, and by now the soldiers knew well enough to just pass anyone who claimed to know me on.

There was Laurent, tall and a perfect model of good manners and study. He had certainly inherited his mother Miriel's spirit as well as her magical skill. My cousin Owain, a fine swordsman and probably the most dramatic man in existence, had apparently woken a considerable section of the camp with some ridiculous entrance. The third was Gerome, Cherche's son, who arrived in the morning riding on the older version of his mother's own Minerva. I told him that Cherche wasn't here, but the stoic and perpetually masked man simply shrugged.

"I've waited this long," he said. "Another day means little."

The decision whether or not to tell their parents about their origins was left up to them. That was the compromise we had come to when I had introduced Cynthia to my mother and father a few days past. Some of them would want their parents to know them for who they were, so that they could spend as much time as possible in the company of the family they had loved – and eventually lost. Others might not want such things complicating an already difficult mission, and would say nothing. That was their choice.

It cheered me to have more of my old friends at my side, especially now. The next few days were the most crucial of the entire war, and the more fighters we had the better. Someday, I hoped, we would all be reunited so that we could finish what we'd come here to do together.

Only a short distance lay between our camp and Steiger. An hour of marching brought us to the level plain on which the fort had been constructed. It wasn't especially tall as far as such structures went, but boasted a broad, sprawling design.

As anticipated, it seemed the Valmese army wouldn't be taking the field against us, nor would they attempt to hold the walls. Their strategy would be to use their superior knowledge of the fort to fight us corridor by corridor, holding us for as long as possible. Their commander surely knew as well as we did that if he lasted long enough, Walhart and Yen'fay would arrive to relieve the siege.

No sooner had we formed a cordon around the fort then Cherche returned with Say'ri. The resistance leader quickly dismounted and made her way over to where I stood with my father and the other leaders of the League.

"Say'ri," Chrom greeted her. "How did it go?"

"Well enough, sir," Say'ri replied, removing a thick scroll from underneath her coat and handing it to Destin. "It seems fortune smiles upon us today, for the plans remained after all. Not only that, but the dynasts have brought a sizable army and are even now infiltrating the network of tunnels built underneath Steiger. It seems they're finally ready to stand up for themselves."

"Good news indeed," Destin replied, unfurling the map. His eyes darted across the parchment, swiftly taking in the crucial details. He started muttering to himself under his breath.

"Have any of the dynasts come here with you?" Flavia asked.

"Nay," Say'ri said, shaking her head. "They opted to remain with their own forces. Truth be told, I think they're waiting for us to start the assault before they make a move. I imagine their hope is that the majority of the losses will be ours."

I hissed angrily at that. "Greedy and self-centered to the last. It's as though the freedom of their continent wasn't at stake here." A heavy sigh followed. "I suppose we need all the help we can get, even if we don't exactly see eye to eye."

"Aye," Chrom said. "We'll worry about the dynasts' attitudes later. Right now, we have a fortress to take – and quickly. Are you ready, Destin?"

"Yeah. This will be pretty straightforward for the most part. Most of the army's going to maintain the encirclement, both to prevent a retreat and hamper the enemy's movement. Basilio and Flavia will remain in charge out here."

"And here I was hoping for a real fight today," Basilio said sadly. "It's been too long since I had a good brawl."

I stared at the balding Khan. Sometimes it was difficult to tell whether he was joking or not. It was exactly the kind of time that he'd try to crack jokes, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out he was serious.

"You'll get your chance after today, Basilio," Destin replied. "Make sure you keep a close eye on all the entrances. The rest of us will be entering through the three passages on the north side; Red through the left, Green the right, and Blue the center. We'll need regular army troops to come in behind us to secure the passageways. We can't have the Valmese getting in behind us."

I wanted to see what he was basing his decisions on, since I had a feeling it would help me understand his lessons a little better. I walked up to his side and peered over his shoulder at the map, which was a rather complex looking architectural plan rather than a simple layout. I could barely make out the general design from all the lines and figures, but after a moment I saw the entrances Destin had been talking about.

"According to this, the corridors Red and Blue are going in through meet a short ways in," Destin continued. "They'll continue onwards as the main thrust. Green will go as far as the first major hall, at which point they'll remain in a holding position and await further orders. That reminds me…" His gaze flicked away from the map and onto me. Standing as close as I was, we were suddenly eye to eye, and my breathing experienced a slight hitch. Destin seemed totally unaware of the effect he was having on me.

"I've decided to give command of Green to Lucina," he said, still regarding me intensely. "So that'll be your lookout."

"M-me?" I stammered, wishing this hateful blush would disappear. Wasn't this exactly what I'd been hoping for – a chance to really do something of value? "But I…"

"The only reason I had Cordelia lead Green previously was because she could keep her cool and would follow my orders," Destin said. "She was never really much for tactics. I know we only just started, but you've already learned enough for me to trust you with this, Lucina."

"Oh… well then…" Why was it so hard to think?

"Let's get moving anyways," the tactician said, swiveling to face the others. "If I think of anything else I'll let you know. We need to be about our business."

"Right," Chrom said.

I managed to reclaim my wits quickly enough to follow Chrom, Destin, and Say'ri when they walked off to where the rest of the Shepherds were waiting quietly. They stopped only long enough for Destin to give his orders, at which point the three groups separated and headed for the designated points of entry. I strode up to right doorway, feeling a little self-conscious now that I was supposed to be leading this group. Well, Destin had trusted me to do it. He wouldn't have put me in command if I couldn't.

The advance was signaled shortly afterwards, and I cautiously led my group inside. The interior of the fortress was uniformly beige stone, old but well maintained. The hallway seemed empty, but there were small niches carved into the walls at regular intervals. Perhaps it was nothing, but…

"Ricken, smoke one of those niches out," I ordered.

The young mage focused for a moment before gesturing, and a gout of flame exploded out of the closest niche. A blackened corpse fell out of it a moment later. Where there was one, there would be more. Sure enough, the rest of the Valmese charged out of cover to attack. They'd expected to fall on us further down the corridor, but they knew they'd been found out.

I lunged forward to meet the attack, thinking to stall for time so the others could form up. The first Valmese soldier blocked my leading slash with his shield and parried my second, but the third reached past and cut across his chest. I didn't have time to finish him off; I had to throw myself towards the wall to avoid several arrows cutting through the air where I'd just been. The next two Valmese soldiers arrived, one of them pulling out a staff and healing the wound I'd just inflicted on the first.

It seemed these troops were no slouches. Whoever was in charge at least understood deployments, having composed this group with archers, healers, and standard frontline types. Up until now the only strategy we'd seen from the Valmese had been to crush the enemy with overwhelming power, but someone here knew better.

Twin blasts of flame streaked down the hall and into the Valmese, immediately followed by the rest of the group charging. I separated the enemy healer and brought him down with two quick strikes while he was still reeling from the magical assault. Others finished off the remaining two Valmese soldiers before continuing their momentum towards the next group. An arrow grazed my cheek, drawing a bloody line across my face, but it wasn't enough to slow me down.

We crashed into the enemy like an avalanche, the fight quickly becoming a bloody melee. With the fighters clumped so closely together, both sides' distance attackers gave up and began targeting each other instead. Ricken and Maribelle managed to take the archers at the far end of the hall down with their magic, but both took arrow wounds for their trouble. The rest of us managed to cut our way through the press, and soon after the engagement was over.

It was necessary to pause there for a time to heal our injuries and ready ourselves for the next fight. Maribelle was already working hard to get around to everyone who needed healing with her staff, so I wiped the blood off my cheek and drank a vulnerary rather than wait for her. Immediately the stinging sensation died down, though I imagined I'd still have a scar for a little while.

I briefly wondered how the other teams were doing, but I stopped myself before I could start worrying. One of the things Destin had been most insistent on when teaching me was that when other people were involved, you had to trust them to do what they said they could do. Constantly worrying about them would only lead to second guessing and mistakes.

We started forward again after a minute, clearing the first corridor and reaching an intersection. The rooms to either side were dead ends, while straight ahead was the main hall we'd been ordered to capture. The side rooms would be left to the soldiers following behind us, but the hall was our duty.

Advancing cautiously, we entered the hall and spread out. Stone columns lined the sides of the room, and the center was dominated by several staircases going down. No doubt these led to the tunnel system Say'ri had mentioned. I hadn't paid much attention to that part of the map, since it wasn't our concern. One passage at the other end of the hall led further on, while a second on the left side would take us to the areas the other groups were assaulting.

I was all but certain the enemy was lying in wait here as well, although none were visible. Clashes of steel and shouts were audible in the distance, but it was nearly silent in the hall. How to go about flushing out the enemy? Sometimes the fastest way to expose a trap was to trigger it. I motioned for the rest of the group to take cover behind the columns on our side, then walked out into the open center of the hall to see what would happen.

I wasn't disappointed. Bolts of lightning shot out from behind several columns and even the side passage, converging on where I was. I hurled myself forward into a roll, feeling the air sizzle above me as the spells shot overhead. The Valmese broke their cover and rushed forward, many more than had been in the previous group. Coming out of my roll, I darted forward to get cover behind a column before their mages could take another shot at me. I was still isolated on the far side of the room, but not for long.

The first Valmese warrior that rounded the corner took my thrust with Falchion full in the chest, yet still managed a solid swing with his axe that only narrowly went over my head before I slashed through his throat. A swordsman came at me from the other side with a flurry of blows, each of which I deftly evaded. His last slash I parried and pushed his sword away before thrusting straight through his heart. Other combats sprung up all throughout the hall.

The most important thing I could think of at that moment was to eliminate the Valmese mages, who were hiding in the rear. I was ideally positioned for it, closer than any of my comrades to the ones at this end of the hall. Another few moments brought no further attacks against me, and I took the opportunity to round the pillar and rush forwards. I came upon three of the spell casters together; they clearly hadn't expected me.

I managed to carry the momentum of my sprint into my attack. My first slash cut across the eyes of the first and cleaved into the second's throat, unleashing a glittering spray of blood. The third released a lightning spell into me at nearly point blank range, flooding my body with alternating pain and numbness. I barely managed to stay standing, and in the following moment slew the last with a thrust.

Turning back to the center of the hall, I found the battle to be over. The few Valmese survivors had fled out the side passage, where Gerome and Cordelia were standing over the bodies of the other Valmese mages. The others gathered in the center of the room, where I joined them. Once again, nearly all of us bore injuries of some kind.

Still, we'd achieved our objective. Unless orders came from Destin, we were simply to hold this area to prevent the enemy from using it as a staging point. The battle was far from over, but if the combined Blue and Red groups had advanced as far as we had then it wouldn't be too long before it became a mop up operation. If the dynasts' troops attacked from the tunnels, the Valmese would be hard pressed to hold their ground. Trapped as they were, it would be easy for them to collapse.

A few minutes of rest helped rejuvenate the Shepherds under my command, along with Maribelle's healing. One of Flavia's lieutenants briefly entered the hall to let me know that the rooms behind us had been cleared and secured, and that they would take over guarding the hall if we were ordered into action. I moved to lean against one of the pillars when a familiar voice from behind startled me.

"Pssst… Lucina."

I turned to find Gaius leaning around the corner, several cuts visible in his light armor and the end of a candy stick protruding from his mouth. Knives hung from both his hands. "What are you doing here, Gaius?" I asked. "You're with Red, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but Destin sent me with a message, so I slipped past," the thief replied. "Listen. The dynasts aren't on our side at all. Their men came up from the tunnels and attacked our flank. We were unprepared since we thought they were allies."

"But what happened?" I demanded, appalled at what he was saying.

"Dunno. But the main bulk of them are gonna be coming up this way, and it'll be trouble if they join up with the Valmese. Destin says to hold your position here and take them out as they come up. As long as their side's covered, Destin and Chrom won't be too much longer in finishing this."

"Right."

Inside I was uncertain, dwelling on the meaning of this sudden reversal of fortune. But I had work to do before I could think it over. I instructed the rest of my group to take cover behind the columns so that we could ambush the dynasts' men when they arrived.

We didn't have to wait long. Only a minute or two after we'd taken positions, footsteps began echoing up the stone staircases. A number of men exited into the hall, though I could only hear them from where I was standing.

"The hell?" One of them exclaimed angrily. "The Ylisseans were supposed to be here!"

"Maybe they went on already?" Another suggested. "If they have, we should follow. You heard that toady looking guy – five hundred a head. We can't miss out on that."

Fury rose in my chest, obliterating my sense of calm. They'd actually placed bounties on our heads? Despicable, even if this was a war. I didn't need to hear any more, and I wasn't the only one to break cover in the next moment and charge the new arrivals. They had expected nothing, and caught completely flatfooted they had no semblance of a formation. Not only that, these men were nowhere near the level of quality of the Valmese soldiers we'd been facing. They were little more than thugs.

It was over in seconds. What followed was a frustrating game of cat and mouse, in which the dynasts' troops continually attempted to exit the tunnels and form up and we did our best to prevent it. Unfortunately, we couldn't afford to go down into the basement after them. That would be an invitation for them to separate and take us down, not to mention we'd be leaving the hall unguarded.

That said, we definitely got the better of them. Only a few individuals slipped past, with most being cut down before they managed to get anywhere. No serious injuries were sustained among our group. Eventually they stopped trying. I imagined they were probably withdrawing after learning just what they'd gotten themselves into.

With everything on our end secure, I decided it was time to find out how things were elsewhere. Leaving Cordelia in charge, I ventured down the side hall towards where the others would be. The bodies of Valmese troops and the dynasts' men littered the floor, the stone walls decorated with blood. Several Feroxi soldiers stood guard in the hallway; once they recognized me, they waved me on.

I came within sight of an intersection where Destin and Chrom were standing, but before I could hail them a voice called to them on the other side and they strode off towards it. I followed them, going down another corridor before entering a richly decorated room. More Valmese corpses lay strewn about, but one, a female mage with white hair, was still alive – though not for much longer judging from the wounds she had.

"You are the imperial commander here, yes?" Destin asked her. She only nodded in reply. "Then, will you surrender? Those injuries will be fatal, but we can help you if…"

He cut off as the woman laughed, coughing up blood in the process. "Surrender?" She said mockingly. "Never. I will die here, but Walhart will crush you. He will. I may not live to see him conquer the world, but… I have seen it in my dreams. That is enough."

Her eyes went vacant then, and she slid down the wall even further. If she wasn't dead already, she would be in a few moments. A shiver went down my spine. Somehow, with our supposed reinforcements turning on us, I couldn't help but agree with her.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Boiling Point

**Chapter Thirteen: Boiling Point**

We gathered in one of the main halls of Steiger, one cleared of bodies and relatively undamaged by the assault. Our soldiers were still descending into the tunnels to ensure that every last enemy had been chased out. The dynasts' armies wouldn't be eager to try us again after the slaughter we'd just subjected them to.

Unfortunately, that couldn't make up for the damage that had been done. We'd been relying on those troops as reinforcements when the time came to face Walhart. Not only were they not going to aid us, they were clearly on the enemy's side.

"Words cannot express my shame," Say'ri said. She seemed to be on the verge of tears, which was saying a lot for such a stoic and formal woman. "I rallied the dynasts here thinking they would fight for their freedom, but it seems their greed and cowardice know no bounds. They will doom us and their last chance for independence for a chest full of gold. To think that Chon'sin has fallen so far as this…"

"This isn't your fault, Say'ri," my father said firmly. "You had no way of knowing their true intentions. It was foolish of us to depend on people who would sell their kingdom so easily. Now we're paying the price for it."

I looked over at Destin, who was oddly quiet. Fingers pressed against his forehead, there was an absentminded look in his eyes as though he wasn't really there. I supposed he was planning as best he could for the new circumstances we'd found ourselves in, trying to find a way out. It wouldn't be easy, but if there was anyone in this world capable of pulling out such a victory, it would be him.

Flavia and Basilio arrived then, walking into the hall from outside. "We've routed the dynasts, but they still have a sizable army immediately to our west," Flavia said without preamble. "What's more, the blocking force we sent to delay Walhart was annihilated. It's hard to say whether they slowed him at all – it certainly seems like he just rode right over them. He'll be here in less than a day."

Those last words felt like a punch to the gut. One day wasn't enough time for much of anything. We'd hoped to gain breathing room by defeating the Valmese forces at Steiger, but it seemed like all we'd done was wrap a noose around our own necks.

"So much for fortune favoring the bold," Basilio snorted disgustedly. "This war hasn't even really begun and it's already lost."

"All our struggles, and yet what have we really accomplished here?" Chrom asked rhetorically. "Nothing, really. We've barely put a dent in the empire."

A bleak depression settled down on all of us. To think that we'd come so far, tried so hard, and it was all coming to nothing. Only one thought sustained me – that the Ylissean League had won the Valmese war in my time, and without my help or that of my comrades. It didn't seem possible that our aid could have somehow turned the war against us. There was still a chance, and I think I knew exactly where it was going to come from.

"…We need to leave here, Chrom," Destin said finally, breaking the miserable silence of the hall. "Right now."

"Have you lost your wits!?" Flavia shouted angrily. "We're surrounded!"

"If we wait for Walhart and Yen'fay to arrive, then we will be trapped for certain," Destin said calmly. "If that happens, we're finished. If we intend to escape, now is our only chance."

"The dynasts are the only force that can check us, and they obey out of greed and fear of the empire," Say'ri put in. "After the massacre they just endured, they won't be eager to try us again. We'll face a token resistance, but nothing more."

"Then what?" Chrom asked. "You yourself said Walhart could easily ride us down with his cavalry if we tried to retreat. How can we turn the tide?"

"Muster all our forces and engage Yen'fay. His army is closer, and weaker than that of Walhart's. It will be a difficult battle for certain, but if we can take him down before Walhart arrives then there's only one Valmese army remaining."

"Walhart is nearly here as it is," Flavia pointed out. "We won't have enough time to finish off Yen'fay. If Walhart hits us from behind while we're still dealing with the southern army, we're dead."

"…Then we hit them both at once," Destin said slowly. "One force goes to occupy Walhart while the rest go after Yen'fay."

"Are you insane!?" Basilio roared. "We just tried this exact strategy, and we got squashed! The entire blocking force was lost! We couldn't stop Walhart with our entire army, and we can't just throw away our men like pawns-"

The look that entered Destin's eyes then was terrifying. Suddenly the man I knew and trusted was gone, and nothing but a horrible blankness remained. There was something unnatural in the air, something that shouldn't be there.

"Do you think I like sacrificing people's lives, Basilio?" Destin asked in a dangerously soft voice. "I don't. I hate it. But this is war – people die, and sometimes you have to do things you'd rather not. I'm the strategist you put in charge of this army, and I'm telling you right now that _there is no other way for us to win this."_

That brought the one-eyed Khan up short. He gaped at Destin for a long moment, nor was he the only one. We all knew our situation was dire, but to have the tactician say it like that was quite a wake-up call. Perhaps none of us really wanted to acknowledge how bad things were, but he'd thrown it into the open. There was no taking it back.

"…I apologize," Basilio said finally. "You've brought us this far, and I shouldn't be doubting you now. This is an impossible situation, and I guess I've let the stress get to my head."

Destin just nodded, but with just that one gesture he was back. The pressure that had been building was gone, and so was the blankness. Perhaps I'd dismissed the significance of the story my mother had told me only a few short days ago, but now I knew better. Beneath his normal nature lay something that wasn't entirely human, and it was as dangerous as anything I'd ever seen. Was that what Tiki had been referring to?

"If that's our plan, we need a leader for the blocking force," Chrom said. "It's an extremely dangerous task. They'll have to occupy Walhart without facing him directly in battle. It'll take someone with cunning and bravery…"

"Ah, quit with your flattery, I'll do it," Basilio said, flashing a humorous grin. "It's the least I can do. I'll hold off Walhart for however long I can while you lot smash Yen'fay."

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. This was bringing back memories of things I'd heard about in my own world, and not good things. Everyone knew how the mighty Khan Basilio of Regna Ferox had died. I had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, that the changes we'd made might circumvent this fateful day. But time, as always, was not content to be overwritten. It would have its due.

"It's settled, then," Chrom said firmly. "Best we get to it. Every minute brings our enemies closer."

"Wait," I said. The others all turned to look at me. "You can't… if you do this, Basilio, you will die. I know this for truth."

"The little oracle speaks," Basilio remarked. "Tell me, is it Walhart who gets me?"

"…Yes," I replied reluctantly. "At least that's how I heard it. I don't know if things fell out exactly the way they did in this time, but you went off to face Walhart's army and died there. Somehow, I know that the same thing will happen here. I just do."

"Huh. I believe you." The West Khan idly scratched the back of his head. "At least it wasn't some farmer with a pitch fork – that'd make a terrible song. Anyways, I'm off."

Confusion filled my mind as he made to leave again. Had he not heard a single word I'd said? "We have to change our plans! Fate can't be allowed to take this course!" I exclaimed heatedly. He had to listen! "You are going to-"

"Die?" Basilio said. "Maybe. As Destin said, sometimes sacrifices are necessary in war. If my life's the cost for victory, I'll pay it. And don't write me off just yet, girl. Since I already know I'm supposed to die here, I can change things. Maybe I'll just stay away from Walhart; the bastard can't kill me if he can't find me. Now then, I've got a job to do. Thanks for the warning – it might just keep me alive."

"But-"

"Don't worry about this oaf, Lucina," Flavia interjected, moving to stand beside Basilio. "I'll bring him back safely. On a leash if necessary."

Basilio rounded on Flavia. "You aren't coming, woman!" He roared. "You're the reigning Khan! You can't-"

"Regna Ferox has two Khans, and now you're responsible for both of them." One hand snaked out and grasped Basilio's collar. "I dare you to die in front of me!" Flavia shouted.

The silence that followed that statement was broken by Basilio's laughter, a booming sound that seemed to echo from everywhere.

"Alright then," he said. "We'll do this your way. So long friends," he addressed to the rest of us. "We'll meet again, hopefully."

I watched the two Khans leave the hall together. They didn't understand how difficult it could be to change history. Put the same people in the same positions and the same thing was going to happen regardless of whether or not you knew about it beforehand. I didn't doubt that Basilio was a clever man when he wanted to be, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the last time I'd see him alive. I hoped otherwise, I really did, but still…

"We need to get going ourselves," my father said. "The more time we have the better."

We marched from Fort Steiger within the hour, three quarters of the entire Ylissean League at our backs. It was still a smaller force than that of Yen'fay, but our troops were better trained. Beyond that, they had heart. And privately, I rather doubted Say'ri's brother had a tactician capable of matching Destin. The situation hadn't looked much better for us when we'd set sail to battle the Valmese invasion force, but we'd managed that thanks to his strategy.

The mood of the army was undeniably grim. The vast majority of the regular army soldiers were Feroxi, and everyone knew that the two leaders of their nation were miles to the north engaging in a fight they had no hope of winning. It might not be common knowledge just how bad the circumstances were, but it was understood that this battle would most likely decide the outcome of the war.

Our Pegasus Knights scouted ahead and skirmished with the imperial fliers, who were mostly griffin and wyvern riders. They returned with the news that Yen'fay's army was deploying for battle only a few miles south of us. It seemed the man had no intention of running.

We topped a rise shortly afterward and came into view of the enemy force. The terrain sloped down a ways from where we were to a more even plain, on which the Valmese force was waiting. It seemed a simple enough battlefield. However…

"Say'ri, what's that?" Destin asked, gesturing towards the east. A mountain rose there, black and covered in a haze of smoke.

"That is a volcano, sir," Say'ri replied. "It is called Demon's Ingle, and is known and feared by all the people of Valm. They believe a terrible fire god lives there, and to even approach it is to risk his anger."

It certainly was an intimidating sight. I could see why the people feared it, although the idea of a god living there was likely no more than superstition. As far as I knew there were only two gods in this world, and neither of them lived in a volcano. For that matter, Grima wouldn't fit.

"What are you thinking, Destin?" My father said, examining his friend curiously.

"We have banners of the Ylissean royal house, do we not?" Destin replied, neatly sidestepping the question. "Someone go find one."

"What's the plan?" I asked insistently. This was no time for secrets.

"It's simple, really. We're going to use the area around that volcano as our battlefield. The banner is just so we can let Yen'fay know we're there."

"But why?"

"The dynasts are still behind us," he explained patiently. "With all our forces engaged, they might decide to attack our undefended rear. But if they're all afraid of some fire god, they won't dare. At the same time, the hostile terrain will limit the approach of Yen'fay's troops."

"What makes you so certain that my brother will advance to meet us?" Say'ri demanded. "He has his pride, yes, but he is no fool. Yen'fay has no reason to fight us there."

"He will," Destin said. "Just trust me. I know he'll attack us wherever we set up, and we'll use that to our advantage."

That was all he would say on the matter – that he knew that Yen'fay would attack us. How he could possibly know such a thing was beyond even me. There wasn't anything in what he'd taught me that could explain this strange confidence. Nonetheless, we marched for Demon's Ingle with the Ylissean banner flying high. Soldiers of both sides gazed with considerable trepidation at the volcano. I understood why Destin wanted to fight there – it would give us, with our smaller number of elite troops, an edge we desperately needed. But that didn't make it any less dangerous.

The smell of smoke and sulphur grew stronger the closer we came. The grassy hills gave way to dark rock. I wasn't the only one to grow increasingly uneasy as we approached Demon's Ingle. It was terribly hot as well; even the thin armor I wore felt positively stifling. I couldn't imagine what the heavily armored troops were going through.

True to Destin's prediction, no sooner had we arrived then the enemy moved to attack us. Whatever reservations they might have had about fighting at Demon's Ingle clearly weren't enough to stop them. The Valmese charged uphill in a great mass, preparing to assault all of our spread out groups at once. The greatest concentration was coming straight at us, and through the smoke I caught sight of a commander's banner waving at the rear. Yen'fay himself was focused on us, just as Destin said he would be.

A crackling noise from behind brought my head around, as well as those of many close to me. A patch of rock several feet across seemed to sink even as I watched it, and a smoking red substance boiled up from underneath. What was going on?

"Magma," Say'ri said, sounding horrified. "This area is becoming unstable. It won't be safe for us here."

"Then we move forward," Destin said evenly. "No groups this time. We won't have the room to use formations. Stick together and advance no matter what. Don't look back; it might get you killed. Have the fliers look out for instabilities – they might be able to save anyone who gets caught."

Without further ado, he drew his sword and marched off in the direction of the enemy. The smoke coming from the volcano was rolling off it and had blanketed the area in front of us. I could barely make out the outlines of the approaching Valmese troops, even at this short distance.

I drew Falchion and hurried after Destin. My belief that he was nearly as important to averting Grima's return as my father hadn't changed. It was crucial that he remain alive, and I could ensure that. The groups, while undoubtedly effective and based on good tactics, had kept us fighting apart in all of our engagements thus far. Part of me wanted to see if I could do as well as my father did in covering the tactician. There were plenty of others to defend Chrom; they could manage without me this time.

I thought that it would be difficult even to find the enemy in all the smoke, but after a few moments Destin stopped and gestured with his free hand. Wind magic surged outward, sending the smoke billowing away from him in all directions. Several Valmese soldiers had been advancing in that smoke, and were utterly surprised by the sudden change. The closest didn't even have time to move before a lance of lightning from Destin's hand caught him in the throat and blasted him off his feet.

The rest charged him once they regained their wits, and I rushed forward to defend him. He caught a Valmese warrior's axe on his sword, and before the man could pull back for a second strike I slid by Destin's side and ran him through. I managed to withdraw Falchion in time to parry a sword strike from the side before a ball of fire shot over my shoulder and into the swordsman's face. A swift strike to the left buried Falchion into the neck of another attacker. Within seconds the last two who had charged were dead.

But a quick glance around showed me that more were coming. They were attracted, it seemed, by the temporary patch of clear air Destin had created. Whether that had been his intention or not, a dozen Valmese soldiers were now approaching from three sides.

Of course, we weren't alone. Vaike, Kjelle, and Tharja all arrived behind us as the enemy closed. The numbers still weren't even, but they weren't our equals in combat. The Valmese we'd fought at Steiger had been stronger, favored with both defensive terrain and a skilled tactician. These troops were disoriented and leading an attack they'd clearly rather not. None of us were happy to be here either, but we had a job to do and we were going to do it. Doubt rarely impeded the Shepherds.

That fight took longer, and the crackling of collapsing rock behind us was a grim reminder that we had overstayed our welcome. It was echoed to our immediate right as another section of rock gave way; the two Valmese soldiers who had been standing on it were plunged into the surging magma. We rushed ahead in search of safer ground, but I couldn't be sure there was any. The area around Demon's Ingle had picked a fine time to fall apart.

It would've been easy to get lost in the smoke, and indeed we never remained with the same group of allies for long. But I followed Destin unerringly, so neither of us had to face the Valmese alone. We fought numerous skirmishes as we advanced ever forward, and after a while I could swear the tactician had a sense for the terrain. He steered us away from several areas that looked fine to me, but began sinking only moments later.

Battle surrounded us in all directions. It didn't take long for our Pegasus Knights to drive the paltry enemy fliers from the sky, at which point they were free to rescue allies who had been trapped by the magma and harass the Valmese ground troops. The battle seemed to be going in our favor, though it was hard to judge the overall situation from the thick of it.

At one point I was about to step forward when Destin grabbed my arm. A second later a fissure ripped through the rock in front of us, followed by more behind us to the left and right. We were nearly surrounded by magma when Valmese soldiers attacked from both sides. Could they have planned an ambush in this? It didn't seem possible, but we were still in a bad situation.

It was in the midst of this that I found myself back to back with the tactician, fending off opponents with our swords. One slip would've meant death for both of us, but he had taught me to always trust the other person. I trusted him. Somehow I'd never imagined that his promise to be there if I needed to lean on him would be fulfilled so literally. But knowing that he was right there behind me put new energy into my tiring arms. More lives than just my own were in my hands here, and I wouldn't lose. He would trust me as well, and I would be damned before I let him down.

At last my blade passed through the guard of my opponent and thrust through his heart. I whirled only to find Destin's enemy dead as well. He turned to face me, breathing heavily and with blood trickling down his face from a nasty scalp wound he'd taken at some point. We didn't have time to rest, though; I could practically feel the rock underneath our feet preparing to give way. I grabbed his free hand and pulled him after me onto more solid ground. Within moments there was nothing but a gaping pit of magma where we'd been standing.

We used the next few minutes to catch our breath, both of us exhausted after all the fighting. Still, I felt more than a little satisfied at the way things had gone. I had been right to follow him; he wouldn't have survived this without me, and I wouldn't have survived it without him. Even if I couldn't work with Destin nearly as perfectly as my father did yet, it was a good partnership. I still had things to learn, and it could only get better.

Then my thoughts came to a screeching halt. Partnership – that was the word I had just thought. Was that how I saw him? Was that what I wanted? It would explain why I had so much difficulty sorting out my feelings for him and only him. But…

"Lucina," Destin said raggedly. I looked over at him. "We have to move on."

I nodded and took the lead cautiously, ready for an attack. He was in worse shape than I was, so if either of us was going to face the enemy it would be me. However, we encountered no more Valmese.

At last, the enemy appeared to be broken. Though my vision was limited, to either side I could see only allies. Destin began ordering those we encountered to begin a withdrawal from the area, and to pass the word to others. I didn't need to ask him about that – the battle was clearly over, and we'd only lose more men by remaining close to Demon's Ingle. If things had gone badly in the north, we might have to face Walhart soon.

One thing was still left undone, as far either of us knew. There had been no sign of Yen'fay despite his apparent eagerness to confront us. Unless he had been taken down elsewhere, then he was still alive.

By chance we met my father and Say'ri, both of whom were staring intently into the smoke. It quickly became obvious why; a dark figure stood on a rise twenty feet beyond them, a sword in its hand. Somehow we all knew that this was the man we'd been searching for. He awaited our challenge.

"Are you up to this?" Destin asked Chrom seriously. He nodded in reply. "Then do it. We need to finish up here so we can regroup."

My father silently turned and strode up to the rise. His figure, too, became distorted as the smoke covered him. Words were exchanged between them, but I couldn't make them out at that distance. Moments later the duel began, both of their forms blurring with motion.

"I do not doubt sir Chrom, but are you sure this is wise?" Say'ri asked. Her voice was slightly strangled; it wasn't hard to figure out why. "Yen'fay is the greatest sword master in all Chon'sin. He will not be easily defeated."

"I understand your concern, Say'ri, but Chrom will win." Destin shrugged uncomfortably. Despite all her words otherwise, we both knew Say'ri was having difficulty dealing with the knowledge that her brother was about to die. Who wouldn't? "Against an honorable opponent like Yen'fay, I don't believe Chrom _can_ lose."

While I could only see their outlines from where we were standing, it was easy to tell them apart. Yen'fay moved in a blur, his sword striking out with lightning speed as he darted around Chrom, seeking a weak point. My father stood his ground, deflecting each of his opponent's attacks in turn. It reminded me of the duel he and I had fought at Arena Ferox. That had been mere weeks ago, yet it felt like a lifetime.

The movement of the combatants carried them further away from us, to the point that I couldn't even see them anymore. This place was so disorienting that even the sound of steel against steel seemed simultaneously distant and near. All that was left was to wait until it was over – and trust that my father would be the one left standing at the end.

It seemed like only a few minutes before my father emerged from the smoke. He bore wounds in several places, but none significant enough to be a danger to his life. In his right hand he carried a sheathed sword, which he handed to Say'ri.

"Amatsu," she whispered. "This is… his…

"I'm sorry," Chrom said hoarsely. He seemed ready to say more, but didn't. I don't think any of us knew what to say.

In the end, the four of us descended Demon's Ingle almost wordlessly. Exhausted, soot-covered, and solemn as we were, we were still victorious. Only time would tell how long we would have to enjoy it.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Closely Held Secrets

A/N: Really sorry for the long wait. I've had a terrible time writing anything lately, not just this. I absolutely intend to keep going with this, but the update time might not be what it once was.

**Chapter Fourteen: Closely Held Secrets**

The sun was setting, bathing the entire area in a lurid orange glow. It gave Demon's Ingle to our east a truly demonic look, and it fit well in my opinion. I never wanted to return to the volcano. All that remained of our army had successfully withdrawn from it, leaving us with perhaps three thousand altogether. We had come out of our battle with Yen'fay's army with more than any of us had expected, and I believed Destin's choice of battlefield had played a vital role in that.

The tactician, Chrom, Say'ri, and I were all sitting in a circle on some rocks we'd found. Regardless of how tired everyone was, we couldn't make camp until we knew what the situation was. The Pegasus Knights had gone north to find that out, and some had already returned to inform us that the dynasts had retreated further west. Even if Walhart were to force a battle with us, they would not be joining it.

I didn't know what we could possibly do if Walhart were to attack us now. No doubt he had his best troops with him, and in our exhausted state he would easily ride us down. All we could do was hope that he'd had enough for one day. Even one night would give us the respite we needed to gather ourselves.

"I still cannot fathom why my brother decided to fight for Walhart," Say'ri said despondently. She gripped the sheathed form of her brother's sword tightly. "Whatever Yen'fay's reasons were, they died with him." As she finished speaking, a flash of golden light appeared a few feet away.

"And what a death it was!" exclaimed the man who emerged from the light. He was stout and pudgy, with ugly violet hair and impossibly gaudy robes of crimson. On the whole, he reminded me of a toad. A smug, self-satisfied toad. "Did you see it? The mixture of pain, longing, and acceptance on his face? Oh, I suppose not. What a man! He held onto his 'honor' until the very end!"

"Excellus!" Say'ri shouted. She was positively quivering with rage, and seemed on the verge of drawing to strike at the odious man. "Explain what you just said!"

"Oh? You really didn't know?" The squat man said with a mock air of dismay. "Yen'fay hid the secret well, I suppose. Dear Say'ri, everything your brother did was for _your _sake. I gave him a simple choice: he could join us or he could watch his beloved sister die painfully. He knew he couldn't keep you safe any other way, so he sold his beliefs and his kingdom to do it. You were the chain I used to choke Yen'fay into submission."

"…No…" Say'ri whispered. "That can't…"

"Oh, but it is!" Excellus gave a derisive laugh. "Even knowing that you would hate him for what he did, Yen'fay gave in anyways. I have to admire the man, just a little. He held his end of the bargain admirably. Too bad, now that he's dead I don't have a reason to let you live any longer. I suppose it will have to wait, though."

Say'ri sank to her knees, eyes wide with disbelief. "Why…?"

A memory from the battle of Steiger drifted across the front of my mind. The dynasts' men had mentioned a toad-like man, the one who had issued the gold bounties on our heads. If this was the same man… he deserved death a hundred times over for what he'd done to Say'ri and her brother alone, never mind the rest.

"Ah, that's a weight off my chest. I should tell the truth more often." He gave another ugly chuckle. "Or perhaps not. Well, I'll see you all soon enough… if only your heads." Another flash of golden light just like the first one, and Excellus was gone.

It was only then that I realized my hand was gripping Falchion's hilt so hard it hurt. Never before had I hated a man as much as I did the sore excuse for one that had just left. He would die before the end of this war; I'd make sure of that, even if no one else did.

"Ah, gods… I have wronged him irreparably. My own brother…" Say'ri began to cry quietly, clutching the sheathed form of Amatsu. My father walked over and knelt down beside her. No doubt he had some words of comfort – I understand he'd always been good with such things, and I'd seen that myself since coming to the past. I felt like I was intruding on something private.

Destin had a somewhat pained expression on his face. I walked over to him. "You don't look very surprised," I said, carefully keeping my voice low.

"I'm not," he replied in an equally controlled tone. "I knew the instant Yen'fay's army took the field against us which side he was really on, in his heart."

My eyes widened slightly. "How could you have known?" I demanded.

"It's all in the tactics," the strategist explained. "Remember that Yen'fay had absolutely no reason to engage us. All he needed to do was last long enough for Walhart to arrive and we would've been finished. He knew that, and even then he still chose to confront us directly. He didn't attempt any kind of evasive maneuver or hold a defensive line, instead charging us without any strategy at all." He sighed slightly. "Do you understand, Lucina? Yen'fay was _trying_ to lose."

"Back there, when you were so confident that he would attack us at Demon's Ingle… that's why? Because you had already figured that out?" He nodded. "But then… couldn't you have-"

"Done something?" He cut in. "What, exactly? Even with his army shattered and no one to answer to, Yen'fay still fought us to the death. Honestly, I think he couldn't forgive himself for the things he did while trying to protect Say'ri. All he wanted was to die so that both his sister and his kingdom would be free. I don't agree with him, but that's how he saw things."

There was really no arguing that. It all made a horrible kind of sense. I couldn't judge Yen'fay for what he'd done – if someone that important to me was held hostage, what would I do? I wouldn't know unless I was put in that position. It'd be for the best not to mention this conversation to Say'ri, though; she was dealing with enough pain and guilt without knowing the full extent of the matter.

Cynthia came in for a landing nearby, and she wasn't alone. At first I didn't recognize her passenger, but after a moment I realized it was Flavia. She didn't look well at all; numerous wounds marked her body, and she was clearly exhausted. The fact that she was here without Basilio made me uneasy. She dismounted and made her way over.

"Walhart has turned back," she announced, her voice surprisingly strong considering her condition. "I don't think his army will stop short of the capital. He smashed us good, though, and…" she looked down. "…I failed. Basilio fell despite my efforts. He…"

That was an unpleasant shock for all of us. I'd hoped that Basilio's fate could be avoided. Any change between my future and this time could provide the key to preventing Grima's return. Perhaps there had been no other way that would have gained us this victory; perhaps only Basilio could have held Walhart off long enough to give us the time we needed to defeat Yen'fay. Nonetheless, it was still a blow. There was no replacing a man like Basilio.

"…The fighting was fierce, and suddenly there he was," Flavia said. "It's kind of a shock, seeing Walhart for the first time. He's about as imposing a man as I've ever met. He went straight for Basilio. I managed to deflect a fatal blow for him, and I thought for a moment we had him. Basilio gave him everything he had, but it barely scratched him. Gods, I've seen him cut through boulders with a swing like that, and Walhart just shrugged it off! Basilio knew he was finished, so he told me to run… and I did."

"You did all that you could," my father assured her. "Walhart would've killed you as well if you'd stayed. It's hard to bear, but Basilio's sacrifice bought us the time we needed. Now the momentum has shifted in our favor."

"I know, I know," the East Khan replied, shaking her head sadly. "I just… damnit, that oaf! Dying like that…" She reached into her armor and pulled something out. "There's something else. Basilio gave me this before he died. I have no idea why he hid it for this long; but the oaf always did love surprises."

The crimson Gemstone shining there in her palm was a match for the two already adorning the Fire Emblem on my father's arm. This was Gules, believed lost generations ago. I'd had no idea that it had found its way to Regna Ferox and into the hands of the West Khan.

Chrom took the stone reverently and placed it alongside Argent and Azure. If all went well, then a victory over Walhart would secure Vert as well, which left only Sable unaccounted for. Even Lady Tiki didn't know where the stone was. Wherever it was hidden, it would have to wait a little longer.

Knowing that Walhart was retreating allowed us to make camp in the valley, finally giving our tired army a chance to recuperate. Watches were done in minimal numbers so that everyone could have a decent night's sleep. We would have another several day march north to the capital, where Walhart would presumably be waiting for us. Hopefully by the time we arrived the army would be in much better shape than it was now.

The next day's march was largely uneventful. We moved slowly, given our current circumstances and knowing that enemies could still attack us. It was still possible that Walhart would decide to turn around and fight us, or even the dynasts might harass our rear. I didn't see Say'ri at any point that day; I hoped she could find some consolation in the battle to come.

I challenged my father to a sparring match that night once we'd made camp. We'd had matches a few times before, but as our struggles against the Valmese had become more intense there'd been little time. I think I was beginning to see what Destin had meant at Demon's Ingle when he'd told Say'ri that Chrom couldn't lose against an opponent who faced him honorably. Every time I thought I was getting closer to winning he turned the tables on me again. At first I'd thought his immense strength was what made him so difficult to fight, but I'd since learned that he could be lightning fast as well. I definitely got the worst of it, and once we were done I took some time to wash.

As soon as I finished, I went looking for Destin. I knew he'd be somewhere in the camp's training ground, probably sparring or teaching one of the other Shepherds. I don't know how he managed to find time for all the people who were learning something or other from him, myself included. That he was so determined to help others improve themselves was one of the things I admired so much about him. But at the same time he never seemed to leave any time for himself. Self-sacrifice had limits, but between Destin and my father they seemed determined to find them.

It didn't take long. There he was, showing Ricken the finer points of some magical technique – it was beyond me. Miriel, Laurent, and Tharja were all nearby, watching the lesson intently. Whether they needed it as well or were observing for another reason, I didn't know. A smile formed on my face as I watched him correct the young mage's errors. So familiar. It might've been me he was correcting on some point of our lessons.

Ricken cheered when he finally performed the exercise correctly, though he was sobered by the fact that he'd accidentally set his hat on fire. As he was hurriedly putting it out, Destin turned slightly so that his eyes met mine. He smiled as well; not the amused grin I was used to seeing, but a genuine smile.

My heart skipped a beat, and even though he immediately returned his attention to the lesson I still felt ridiculously happy. A memory drifted to the front of my mind from long ago, playing out even while I stood and watched.

_"Mother," I began nervously. Sumia was brushing her Pegasus, a common sight, but she would always make time for me and Cynthia no matter what._

_ "Yes, dear?" _

_ "How… did you know you were in love with dad?" The last came out in a rush. I really couldn't think of any easier way to ask it. Of course I could bring up anything with my mother, but some topics were just difficult to handle no matter how mature the people involved._

_ Sumia glanced over at me, a smile appearing on her lips. "Hmmm… well, there isn't really any one thing that made it clear. It was more a mixture of a lot of things. Where did it begin? Probably with how he looked. Your father was an extremely handsome man, and I don't know what woman wouldn't be attracted to the kind of regal, dignified bearing he always had. His personality, too; he never once dismissed me or looked down on me despite the fact that he was a Prince and I was a clumsy commoner. He made me feel like I belonged, and that's something that's stayed with me ever since then."_

_ She looked off into space for a long moment, still absentmindedly stroking with her brush. I had seen that look in her eye plenty of times before while talking about my father._

_ "Everyone has their joys and their sorrows," my mother continued. "But they always seem larger, more important somehow, when someone you love is involved. That day I saved Chrom from the spears of the Feroxi was the happiest day of my life. It was such a little thing, but it meant the world to me. Like I had shown that I could be his equal, that I was worthy of him. But when Emmeryn died and he was injured and depressed, it was like the world was suddenly a darker place. I had trouble waking up some mornings because I didn't want to face the world with him so broken."_

_ "That doesn't sound like a good thing at all," I said, taken aback._

_ "It might seem that way sometimes." Her smile became nostalgic. "I remember my clumsiness was always the worst when he was nearby. One minute I was fine and the next he walked in and I would start blushing and tripping… it was so embarrassing. But I can laugh about it now, because he didn't care about that. He saw me and loved me for who I was, and that was what mattered. I would've happily given up my life for him; sometimes I wish that I'd had that choice, that it could've been me instead of him. The intensity of real love isn't something you can mistake for anything else."_

"_The most important thing to remember, Lucina, is that no one can tell you whether or not you're in love. That's something only you can know. I knew then that Chrom was the one for me, and someday you'll find someone just as important to you."_

Somehow, standing there, everything suddenly made sense. I was in love with Destin. It wasn't something I could deny any more than I could deny my name or the Brand in my left eye. Those were simple truths of who I was, and so was this.

I couldn't deny it, but neither could I accept it. There were so many problems I couldn't even begin to address them all. I was from an entirely different time, and even though we were close in age he was my father's best friend. The Lucina that belonged in this world was two years old and crawling around Ylisstol. I didn't belong in this time, and I knew it.

Beyond that, I had no idea how he felt about me. Admittedly, he did spend more of his time with me than anyone else in the Shepherds except Chrom, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He taught me tactics and was always ready with a word of support, but he might still see me just as Chrom's daughter. I had a task to remember, a mission to save this timeline from the terrible fate my own world had suffered. The last thing I needed was complications.

…And then I realized that he was standing right in front of me and all of that stopped being important.

"You have that look you get when you're thinking about your future," Destin observed quietly. "Did that remind you of something?"

"Ah… yes." I'd probably die of sheer embarrassment if I ever told him what.

"Thought so. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I was sparring with my father anyways. We just finished a few minutes ago."

"Oh?" There was an amused undertone in his voice. I glanced sidelong at him, and of course he was grinning. "How long did it take him to figure out that you just wanted to spend time with him? Chrom can be remarkably slow on these things sometimes."

I grimaced slightly. It wasn't that I thought my father had nothing to teach me in terms of sword skill – far from it – but it was true that my main motivation for requesting matches with him was so that I could have time with him. The time that I'd never had a chance to enjoy when I was a child. But I'd never told him that, nor had he ever let on that he knew, and I certainly hadn't told Destin anything about it. So how did he know?

Perhaps that was a stupid question. He seemed to know everything about everyone in the Shepherds, even things I'd consider private. I suppose it was his business to know as much as he could about the people he would command in battle. Some things, like my own ploys for fatherly attention, no one had mentioned or even implied to him. Yet he knew about them anyways. Intuition, the ability to correctly guess circumstances from minimal clues, was a valuable talent for a tactician. Maybe that was why he was so good at what he did.

I didn't reply, but he didn't seem to expect an answer. We continued back to his tent in silence. The realization I'd just come to had made me more aware of him, somehow, as if I could feel his very presence at my side. Considering that I'd also decided to do nothing about it, it was also a little bit uncomfortable. But I didn't want to let it bother me too much, so I tried not to think about it as we settled into that night's lesson.

I must have been more exhausted than I'd believed, because the next thing I remembered was waking up in the morning. It took me a few moments to realize that I was not in my tent, and a few more to realize that I'd never left Destin's. He wasn't there when I woke up, but all signs pointed to him having slept in his chair.

A furious blush covered my face, for more than one reason. Not only had I evidently fallen asleep during his lesson, I'd taken his sleeping roll. I might as well have kicked him out of his own tent. I've never claimed to be some paragon of good manners – there were more important things when you were facing extinction any day of the week – but my mother had raised me better than this. I really had no excuse.

Mortified, I peered out of the door flaps to check that nobody was watching before I left. The situation was awkward enough without one of the other Shepherds seeing me leaving Destin's tent and jumping to conclusions. They would, too; many of my comrades were hopeless romantics deep down, regardless of the image they projected on the surface.

Fortunately, it was still early in the morning. Most of them were still asleep, and even the regular army had only just begun to rouse itself. I was able to slip out into the main section of the camp without anyone noticing. My first thought was to try to find Destin so I could apologize, but I had no idea what to say. I settled for finding something to eat instead.

It took me a little while to calm myself down. Destin wasn't the kind of man who'd hold this sort of thing against me; most likely he'd be amused more than anything. I was still going to apologize, because that was the right thing to do, but I didn't feel nearly as bad about it.

As luck would have it, he was in the same section of the training area he'd been using to teach Ricken the previous night. He seemed to be experimenting with some kind of magic and was alone, except for two other women standing near the fence watching him. I snuck up behind them without either noticing.

"What on earth does he think he's doing?" demanded the one on the left, in an abrasive voice that felt very familiar. "Even Laurent would never try something like that, and I swear he's going to get himself killed doing research someday."

"I-I don't know…" the other stammered. "He feels kinda scary to me."

"Oh, you think everyone's scary," the first replied. "Someday you're going to have to stop jumping at your own shadow, Noire."

"And someday you're going to have to stop giving her a hard time for it, Severa," I said.

Both of them turned to face me, surprise written all over their faces. As I'd thought, two more of my old comrades. Cordelia's daughter, the sometimes insufferable Severa, was a skilled warrior who hated to be compared with her mother. Noire was Tharja and Lon'qu's daughter, possibly one of the shyest people in existence until she used the talisman her late mother had given her… at which point she acted like a demon.

"Oh, L-Lucina," Noire squeaked. "You're actually here…"

"That figures," Severa said, rolling her eyes. "Do you have any idea what we went through to get here, princess? Geez, this whole thing was your idea in the first place…"

"I'm sorry for your trouble, but you all agreed," I replied firmly. I hated arguing with my friends, but I was in no mood for Severa's attitude at that moment. "It's too bad that we got separated, but you're here now aren't you?"

"W-well yeah. But still, do better next time!" She certainly hadn't changed.

"Right. Are you holding up alright, Noire?"

"Yes…" The black haired girl clutched her hands together tightly. "I've only had to use my talisman a few times. And now that we're together again, I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Not everyone's here yet," I said. "But enough, I hope."

"By the way, Lucina, who's that out there?" Severa asked. "I'm no expert, but I don't think you should combine magic like that."

I paused to take a good look at what Destin was doing. As Severa said, he seemed to be switching elements constantly, as though trying to make them work together. I had no doubt that it was dangerous, which might just be why he was doing it at all.

"He's this army's tactician," I replied easily. "Come on. I'll introduce you."


End file.
